JXHQ: Knives and Lint
by thechokesonyou
Summary: Harleen Quinzel, a resident psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum is suddenly thrown into a world of chaos when a super criminal, named The Joker shows up - and wants her as his psychiatrist. Harleen watches as her sanity slowly fades away and is destroyed, resulting in the birth of the Joker's new flame... Harley Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

**chapter 1**

I'd always been interested in psychology. Even as a kid, I was obsessed with those silly little personality tests and was constantly checking lists of different symptoms of mental disorders – you know in case someone in my family was a psychopath. By the time I got into highschool, the passion had faded a bit, only because of, well, high school. Other more 'important' work took over and I had hardly any free time. Between trying to maintain a high GPA and spending the majority of my other time at the gym, swinging on bars and flipping on mats.

Gymnastics hadn't been my idea.

It was my mothers. She told me I'd appreciate it later in life, and sure, you could say I did. I was in shape, fit and it had given me a strong determination that I now put to everything I did. It did take up a lot of my time though. Anyway, even after much complaining on my part, but my mothers adoration of my ease, I decided to just roll with it. I was a people-pleaser. I didn't need another's approval to feel good about myself, but who doesn't appreciate someone's respect and pride in them?

After flying easily into college – help from my gymnastics scholarship – I started taking more classes at Gotham University. I didn't live in Gotham, or at least not for the vast majority of my life. I only moved here three years ago. I'd been in college five years and had raced my way up the ladder in my psychology course work. My passion had been renewed, and here I was, a resident doctor at Arkham Asylum.

It hadn't been my original goal to work in an asylum. Being a therapist, yes. The idea of working with your average joe with mild depression wasn't very appealing to me, though. Sure, I was empathetic, but it just didn't interest me. Honestly it bored me to tears. I've always loved extreme personalities, and that dragged me here. I'd gotten high recommendations from all of my teachers at GCU and all my previous jobs, and Arkham needed the help. I got hired immediately. What helped the most was that my psych teacher, Dr. Jonathan Crane had worked in the asylum for years. He taught on the side, and took it very seriously, but his first and foremost priority was psychopharmacology. Dr. Crane was a bit frightening, somewhat dramatic and everything he said made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. But damn was he a good teacher.

Eight months before I started my job here, the director (a Dr. Jeremiah Arkham) was attacked by a patient, ending in losing an eye and a severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The care of the asylum was placed into the capable hands of Malachi Lawrence. I didn't particularly like Dr. Lawrence, but I also admired him. He was a good doctor, and had been working at the asylum for a good seven years. He'd successfully rehabilitated eleven high profile patients. His track record was impressive. This being my sixth month here, I was still working with my first patient. (Granted, I only started working with him three months ago.) Before then, I'd mainly been shadowing other doctors, occasionally sitting in on sessions with high-class psychotic killers. One of my favorites was a woman named Pamela Isley, or as she prefered to be called, Poison Ivy. She was in essence all things beautiful: Long, silky fire red hair that fell in lovely natural curls around her pale skin. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green and it was easy to get lost looking in them, and she knew it, too. Pamela Isley was a very confident girl and could manipulate a man like it was as simple as reading the morning paper. One of our younger, less experienced orderlies had been fooled into kissing her, only for a moment, and the toxins in her lips killed him in seconds. She'd laughed for half an hour straight. That was before I'd met her though, and in recent therapy and from what I've seen in the common room and in her cell, she'd been relatively tame. It was hard to imagine someone so flawless, so flawed.

Another of the more intense criminals here was a man named Jervis Tetch. His obsession with Lewis Carroll fed into his already sick mind, ending with countless murders, and admitted pedophilia with young girls he called "his Alices." Gotham's famous Batman had brought him in just two months ago. It seems like he's been here much, much longer. The dream speech starts to affect your mind after a while.

Now, my patient, was a man named Timothy Blank. He'd been diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was eleven and was prone to manic episodes. Timothy had shown a lot of progress lately and I'd been itching to get my claws into something a little meatier. I was sure Timothy would be out of here in the next few months. That being said, Dr. Lawrence still hadn't congratulated me on _my _progress, something with which greatly bothered me (more than he already did). And unfortunately, I was headed towards his office now.

He looked up when he heard my heels click into his office. I was immediately surprised and one of my eyebrows raised as my eyes widened some. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale, and it looked as though he hadn't slept in days. "Dr. Lawrence?"

"Quinzel, sit down," He said, moving papers aside. He went to take a drink from his coffee cup and finding it empty, tipped it completely back to get the last of the dregs. "I'm sorry, my office is a mess." _So are you, buddy. _

"It's fine, Doctor. What's wrong? You look a bit unkempt." His nose wrinkled and I rushed to apologize. He was still my boss, of course. Brown nosing once in a while was to be expected. "I didn't mean it like that, at all. Just worried a bit, sir. You look like you could use some rest..."

He chuckled then, running his fingers through his dark hair. For a middle aged man, his hair was still thick and black and his goatee was much the same. "I've been here all night, working. Haven't slept. I'm running on caffeine and will power." I offered a small smile at that. After all, I could relate. I doubt I'd be able to function in human society without coffee. "We're bringing in a new patient soon. I'm notifying all the doctors personally before I tell the rest of the staff. You know how the nurses talk, and I don't want this getting twisted by gossip."

I took advantage of his pause and said curiously, "Who's the new patient?" I crossed my legs and laced my fingers together, leaning forward with just the right amount of interest. In reality, I was screaming inside. Who would it be? Maybe Victor Zsasz? I'd always wanted a chance to work with him, but after his last murder two months ago, he completely fell off the radar. I was praying for some excitement.

"The Joker." He watched me with hooded eyes, waiting for a reaction. My mouth popped open. The Joker? At Arkham? Multiple things sprung to mind in that moment. The first being that this was going to be huge for the asylum. Being in the Narrows and having such low funding, the establishment was a bit run down and little old fashioned. Second, was that this was going to suck for me. No new patient. As much as I'd die to work with an enigma like _The Joker, _I'd probably have to be here as long as Lawrence to even get close enough to hear that crazy laugh. I wondered idly what he was like in person, and not just on the news. I blinked and then realized Lawrence was waiting for a reply. "That's amazing! This is going to be so good for Arkham." I bit my tongue before asking hesitantly, "Who's going to be his primary doctor?"

"Well me, of course. At first. We don't know what kinds of tricks he has up his sleeve." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking at the wall above my head. "I'm nervous, Harleen." At first I was stunned he'd used my first name. It was informal and not professional and definitely unlike Lawrence, but what surprised me most was the first part of that sentence.

"You're the best doctor at Arkham, there's no need to be nervous. Besides, he'll be under lock and key constantly." I told him these words believing them, but the cold feeling in the bottom of my stomach was making me feel otherwise. I'd seen the man on my TV screen and yet I knew it was nothing compared to the real thing. Lawrence was in for a wake up call. I hated myself for feeling a bit nervous for him, myself. "When is he coming in?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'm going to tape the session, so the rest of the doctors can watch. I want as many people's different thoughts as I can get, without unnerving him with them all in the room."

"He seems like the kind of guy who likes attention," I mused halfheartedly. Then I cleared my throat. "Yes, that makes perfect sense. I wasn't scheduled to come in tomorrow, but am I included in that?"

He nodded. "It'll be recorded, if you want to watch it later. But you're more than welcome to come see it live. I'm meeting him at ten." He sighed then. "I have so much paper work to do. The court is arguing about whether or not he belongs in Blackgate or under psychiatric care. Tomorrow will be the personal assessment."

"I'll get you some coffee, Dr. Lawrence," I told him as I uncrossed my legs. As I went to stand, he held a hand up to halt me.

"Thank you, Quinzel. Afterwards, go on home. It's a big day for us all tomorrow." My nose twitched at the sudden courtesy. Sleep deprivation suited him. I could get used to this. Usually he's rude, commanding. I just gave him a smile and turned the other way, closing the office door behind me as I left.

_The Joker. _The face make-up and stained teeth haunted me now, now that I knew I was seeing him tomorrow. Still not in person, but close enough. Oh, what I would give to have the chance to meet him. It took me five minutes to get to the cafeteria, and another seven to make Lawrence's coffee and bring it back up to his office. I frowned as I opened the door. Lawrence's computer was off, his papers put away, and he was gone.

_The last manic episode was three weeks ago. Blank has made an immense amount of progress and seems dedicated to getting out of Arkham soon. The Prolixin has steadily eased us into the maintenance phase of his schizophrenia. Since this almost consistently remains through the entire life, I'm recommending an outpatient program after he leaves the asylum as an inpatient, to keep involved in his progress. I'm reluctant to ease the dosage of his medication down this early, just for the sake of that he's been reacting so well to this, even more than the dosage we were on last month._

I rubbed my forehead. The light from my laptop was giving me an intense headache, which was not something I needed the night before our "big day." There had been enough news about the Joker's arrest, complete with his manic laugh in the background as a steady beat to the reports. It gave me goosebumps even now. With an audible _hmph _I stood up from the couch and closed my laptop. I stretched my arms above my head and felt the joints in my shoulders pop and sighed. I could feel my muscles tensing up and knew I needed to get back into doing my nightly routines. Not tonight though. I turned everything off in the living room and went into the bathroom, popping a few ibuprofen into my hand and chucking them back with water. I brushed my teeth as quickly as I could muster and then spit dramatically into the basin before looking up into the mirror. I sighed.

With my blonde hair up in a pathetic ponytail and lack of makeup, the strain of my new job and the city had taken on me was obvious. I loved Gotham, I really did. My apartment was nice enough, on the verge of the Narrows, yes, but definitely nice for the rent I paid. My job paid well enough, and I had a measure of respect I'd never had before. I was happy. My lips turned down into a frown. Well, I was at least content. With that somewhat sobering thought in my head, I cracked my neck and headed into the bedroom. I threw the blankets over my head and said aloud, "Let the games begin." I groaned.

"Good, you made it," Dr. Sean Warren said, without looking up from the television screen. It was bright blue right now, waiting for the video to begin, but he was watching it as if his favorite movie was playing. I pursed my lips but went ahead and took the seat next to him, crossing one leg over the other.

"What'd I miss? I can tell it's been exhilarating so far," I replied with an edge in my voice. The two other head doctors in the asylum were speaking in the corner, nursing cups of coffee. I licked my lips. I'd woken up late this morning and hadn't had my coffee and the lack of caffeine was definitely getting to me. I usually really liked Sean, and this morning I was being sarcastic with him. He noticed too and raised an eyebrow at me. I winced. "Haven't had my coffee yet." His lips twitched into a grin. Yeah, I liked Sean. He was attractive, and older, which had always been my kind of man. He was in his early thirties and it appealed to me. The golden hair and light gray eyes and full lips were hard not to notice and the fact that he knew the definition to the word _alphamegamia _just topped it off.

Of course I wasn't looking for a relationship and my interest in him was purely platonic and/or business-related, and his feelings toward me were mutual. Didn't mean I couldn't look at him. Suddenly the flick of the screen caught my eye and the two doctors behind us quieted down and took their seats. There was automatically an electric tension in the air that you could practically taste. I couldn't exactly place it - excitement, or fear? Something different? I knew I was feeling both.

The camera was angled at a wall. Suddenly there was a crackle and the video camera shifted to the left. My eyes widened. The man on the screen was clad in the original gray Arkham jumpsuit, which didn't do much for the aura around us. It looked clinical, cold and scary. His hair was dirty brown and fell in greasy, unwashed curls and you could see the faint remains of his green hair. He was slouching against the couch, his hands placed in between his legs, the cuffs awkwardly bending his wrists towards the floor where they attached to his ankles. Faint streaks and smudges of color were on his face, but the majority of his skin was bare, making him look much more human. My head cocked to the side slowly. It was strange seeing him that way. His puffy scars were still stained red, just like the way lipstick stains your lips. His eyes looked like eyeliner after a shower. Amidst it all, it was obvious he was much younger than we'd originally thought - maybe early thirties, and he wasn't _ugly. _He was probably very attractive once upon a time, if he'd had a shower and a little less psycho. My head cocked even more. I was very curious about this man.

"Dr. Lawrence interviewing patient 309, November 18th, 2014." He cleared his throat and there was the sound of shuffling papers. "How are you feeling today?" He asked the Joker, and sat patiently as he awaited a response. The man didn't reply at all, just continued to sit, his head lolled back, watching the ceiling. "Alright. Let's start off with some basic questions then." Lawrence didn't seem particularly thrown by his silence, but I could tell he was unnerved already. Being in the presence of this man couldn't be anything less than terrifying. "How old are you?"

The Joker suddenly giggled a little and his feet tapped merrily against the floor, a jolly little tune I couldn't place, but didn't seem made up. "Doctor _Lawrence..._" He murmured, testing the name on his lips. His tongue slid across his bottom lip and onto his scars before he smacked his lips. His head fell forward and he stared forward, towards the doctor. My heart raced. It seemed as though he was looking straight into the camera, though I knew he wasn't, and that _voice. _You could hear the power, the authority he had, just through those two little words. It was easy to see how he could manipulate and control people so easily. I leaned forward ever so slightly, drawn in.

"Yes?" Lawrence asked.

"_Doctor _Lawrence." He was still trying it out. "I know you, ya know." He said and raised an eyebrow like they were conspiring together, his head dipping forward simultaneously.

"Is that so?" Lawrence asked, voice a bit tighter.

The Joker giggled. "Of _course _I do. I know _people _and because I know people I _know individuals._" He licked his lips. He must have some sort of oral fixation, a compulsion. Or maybe he just liked to feel his scars, to make sure they were still there or to remind him... Of something.

"How do you suppose?" Keep asking questions, Lawrence, stay in control. Don't let him scare you. God, I was yearning to be closer, but at the same time wanting to run away and never think of him again.

"We all aren't very _different. _I mean, ah, _your _lot is constantly trying to find what's different and wrong in other people's brains... To fix 'em. But it's _those people, _the _different _people... We know things. Like you... _Doc._" He smacked his lips and gave him another curious look, daring him to feed onto his preaching. Apparently Dr. Lawrence made some sort of gesture and so the Joker continued. He relaxed, shrugging back into his seat. "I know you like _control. _I know you aren't afraid to step on people to get what you want. I know you're _scared _of anyone who could undermine you... You live _alone... _No animals. None of that, that isn't you." He paused, and looked up at him with an arched brow. "Di_vorced._" The tension in the room spiked and I sat up straight. No, no, no, Lawrence, get control…

"Mr. Joker, this session isn't about me. I have a lot of questions though, for you..." That was definitely the wrong move. The Joker latched onto his evasion and used it to his advantage. I gasped and a hand latched to my mouth as suddenly on screen, the Joker stood, back hunched to keep his hands from halting him and hurled over the desk. His head slammed into Lawrence's with a noise that made _my _head hurt. Sean cursed and stood and there was a flash of white as he disappeared to go help. I sat, shocked, unsure of whether to follow or see what happened next. A harsh laughter rang out in my ears as Lawrence groaned and the camera dropped to the ground, pointing at the couch. I couldn't see a thing. It took me all but two seconds to jump from my seat and run as quickly as possible (not very fast, thanks to my heels) to the elevator. My thumb jabbed into the button multiple times, as if it would speed up the process. Anxiously I tapped my foot as it came to a halt on my floor. Now inside, I abused the button that said 3 until the elevator began to rise. I slumped against the wall. What was happening? Was Lawrence dead? Was the Joker sedated? How much damage had he caused?

I could hear the shouting before the elevator had even stopped.

Sean was the first face I recognized, followed by Aaron Cash, one of our top security guards. I anxiously maneuvered the small crowd of orderlies and doctors until I got to Sean, standing next to his elbow and trying to crane my neck to see in the small doorway of the interviewing room. There was a wall of blue where the guards were but I couldn't see more than that. My nose wrinkled as I thought about Lawrence. I hoped he wasn't dead, but I wasn't too bothered by him getting bashed in the head. The self-righteous bastard could use a beating once in a while. Realizing what I was thinking, I shook myself out of it and turned to Sean. He was at least three inches taller than me, even with the heels and I had to look slightly up to see him. "What's going on?"

As he opened his mouth to speak, a loud, crazed laugh broke out from amidst the chaos in the room. We both froze and I could see the fear in his eyes. "There's your answer." I gritted my teeth and stepped back, leaning against the wall. _There's your answer. _Maybe the Joker didn't belong in Arkham. He sure as hell didn't belong in an ordinary prison, but this place was too dead, too small and tame for a guy like him. His personality was just too large to fit in here without making room - by taking others out. My temple throbbed, my headache from the night before returning. It was only a few moments, I'm sure, though it seemed like an eternity later that three struggling orderlies were pulling a relaxed Joker out of the room. He was giggling wildly, his cheeks flushed, and eyes closed. His body was limp and I didn't know if it was because he was sedated or just didn't care.

He laughed again wildly, and goosebumps raised on my skin. I finally saw his face. His eyes opened and swirled around the hall, watching us as he was dragged away. "But I don't know _you, blondie._" He sang. I couldn't move my gaze from his. He was looking straight into my eyes, his black irises staring straight through me. My stomach dropped. His stare froze me and I couldn't do anything, couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't look away. "Come _see me, _sometime, _toots!_" He laughed again. As soon as he was around the corner and out of sight, I felt his gripping stare release me and I exhaled shakily.

**Please review guys. I've been working on this story for a while and... Can't decide if I like it. But I decided to post it and see what you other Joker-lovers think! Harley and Joker are honestly the two biggest things on my mind 24/7. Anywho, thank you for reading. Reviews are wonderful.**


	2. Chapter 2

In the waiting room of Gotham General Southeast, Warren, Dr. Brenda Murphy, head of security Aaron Cash and I waited impatiently for news of Dr. Lawrence's condition. I was clutching a paper cup of coffee (my second in the past hour) and wiggling my foot anxiously. Sean was pacing in front of me. The automatic doors opened with a whoosh and I turned my head at the same time as the others. Sean didn't stop his pacing until he realized who it was. "Dr. Crane," Dr. Murphy said, standing. "I'm glad you made it."

"Can someone please explain what the hell happened this morning? I was gone two days and the asylum goes to hell." I cringed slightly. Dr. Crane was frightening when he was mad. His piercing blue eyes were raging behind his glasses.

"We don't know, the Joker just attacked him for no reason. He wasn't provoked." Sean muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Have you heard anything?" Crane asked, setting his briefcase down a few chairs away from me, and I shifted to the other direction only slightly. I had a lot of respect for Crane, but I'd learned when he's in one of his moods, keeping your distance is your best bet.

Aaron Cash shook his head and in his deep voice, said, "He's been in there an hour and no one's told us anything."

Crane scowled. "Did it look serious when he was taken from the asylum?"

"He was bleeding a lot. But head injuries always do." Dr. Murphy said. "It could be nothing, or a concussion, or anything. We don't know, Dr. Crane."

"And the Joker?" Crane sneered.

"He's locked up nice and tight in solitary." Cash told him.

"In a straight jacket?"

"Of course," Cash scowled back. He was getting defensive. That was his territory, and Crane was talking down to him. I frowned at Aaron, but he didn't catch my eye.

Crane nodded and his teeth gritted gently. "If you all would like, you can head on back to the asylum, or home. Today has been stressful, I know."

"Will you let us know when you get information?" Brenda asked. "I have a session in twenty minutes and as much as I'd like to stay..."

"Of course." Eventually the numbers were down to Dr. Crane, Sean and I. Aaron had decided to head back to Arkham for damage control. Sean was too unkempt to leave, and I... I had nowhere to be. On the next coffee run to the cafeteria, I bumped into a broad chest and my coffee fell out of my hand. "Oh, my apologies..."

"Fuck," I muttered, catching my balance. I looked up at the man I collided with and blinked when I saw Dr. Crane. I immediately covered my mouth. I swore a lot but made it a goal not to in front of my coworkers. He smiled and bent down to pick up the cup, tossing it into the trash. "Sorry about that, Dr."

"No, no, completely my fault. Ah, let me find some paper towels..." Then he looked me in the eye and his brow lowered. "You seem really tense, Dr. Quinzel."

I tried to smile but wasn't feeling it. "Fourth cup of coffee." I shrugged as if it was a good enough explanation. Distracted, he smiled while looking past me and over my shoulder. He quickly dashed around to the passing janitor cart and stopped the woman with a free hand. She jumped slightly.

"Sorry miss, do you mind if we get some paper towels? We had an accident here..." He gestured bashfully towards the coffee spill. In a slight Spanish accent she waved him off, telling us it was fine and she'd clean it up. Dr. Crane smiled politely and then turned back to me. He inclined his head, and said, "What do you say to another cup of coffee?"

I shook my head gently and smiled. "I think this was a sign. I've had enough for one night." I was feeling slightly uneasy with how friendly he was being. Those eyes were unnerving enough.

"Maybe another time, we'll have to grab a cup when we're both on break." He straightened his tie unconsciously. "I think I'm going to head back to the asylum. Until we hear more on Lawrence's condition, I'm somewhat in control. I'm sure everyone's on edge now."

I nodded. "Good luck, Doctor."

"Have a pleasant night, Dr. Quinzel," He replied, his pale, full lips stretching into a small smile. I returned it, if not hesitantly. As he headed off towards the main exit, I turned on my heel and watched him leave, my brow furrowed over my eyes.

**Short chapter! I just really love Dr. Crane and kinda wanted to focus in on him for a moment. Because yes, he is going to be quite a large part of the story. (Scarecrow fans, hold onto your burlap sacks!) No Joker in this chapter, but he'll be back soon enough. I can't stay away for too long. Reviewers make my day and if you like my story I'll definitely update faster if you guys give me feedback. It's always nice to know you're appreciated. I think Harley would agree with me! Thank you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**chapter 3**

"They said it's nothing serious. He had a concussion and they asked him to spend the night, just to keep an eye on things, but he should be back tomorrow," Sean told me as we walked down the hall. It was strange being back in the asylum and things being so hectic. Hectic probably wasn't the right word. It wasn't busy, it was... Alive with tension. Everyone was on edge. There hadn't been hardly any violence since Dr. Arkham left, and no one wanted this to escalate to the same point as Jeremiah's injury.

"Who's taking over the Joker's case?" I asked. I was still deathly curious about him. The only two doctors who I could think of that would be assigned to the case were Dr. Crane and Dr. Murphy. For some reason I couldn't see either of those doctors making a good impression on him. _Come and see me, sometime, toots! _I shook my head gently. As if that had meant anything. He was just trying to get into our heads. Though the thought of having an hour to talk to him…

"Probably Crane. How should I know? They don't tell me anything." He paused to wrinkle his nose. "I'm going to have a fag. You want one?" I grinned but shook my head in response. This had been a thing since I'd came to Arkham. The first day we met, he was on his way out for a cigarette, and like a gentleman, offered me a smoke. I'd never been interested in cigarettes. Ever since, every day he offers.

"No, thanks. I'm on my way to turn in Blank's report to Crane," I tell him.

He smiled as he flicked his black Zippo open and closed. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I might need it." I smiled at him once more before we both headed in our separate directions – Him, to the parking lot, and me to see Dr. Crane. Crane's office was on the second floor, right in front of the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, he looked up. His eyebrows raised at me and he nodded, gesturing for me to enter. I handed him the folder for Blank as soon as I approached the desk. He browsed my latest report quickly.

"You're almost ready for him to join the out patient program, then?"

"I think he's ready."

"I'll definitely be keeping track of your next few sessions and see what Lawrence thinks as well. He might not be back for a couple weeks. Just recuperation." I nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Quinzel." I smiled, tight lipped, and turned away. "Oh, Harleen?" I raised my eyebrows as I looked back at him. He was leaning over his desk with his hands laced, looking at me over his glasses.

"Yes, Jonathan?" I asked, returning the first name.

His lips twitched at the corners. "I'm going to go in with the Joker tomorrow. Let the other doctors know." I bit my tongue. Wasn't it a bit early for another session? Shouldn't they let him cool down a bit?

"You think that's wise?" I asked, a bit hesitantly.

"I think that waiting is exactly what he expects. The less time he has to prepare an approach, the better."

"I'm not sure he prepares his approaches, Dr. Crane, that's the thing." Crane shrugged. The Joker, while very complicated, also had many psychopathic tendencies. One of, being that he loved to be the center of attention. And any who wanted to be noticed that bad, needed to always be ready to act. Maybe Crane would realize that.

"We'll see, Quinzel."

The session started off exactly how the last one did. Sean was sitting next to me, a cup of Gotham's finest coffee (Sarcasm) in each of our hands, and the video camera was pointed straight at the Joker's face. His head was lolled down, utterly silent and his hair was hanging down in loose curls. It looks clean and not terribly unhealthy, which was much different than two days ago. He'd showered recently. My stomach was flipping in anticipation. Sean's leg was shaking next to me. It was obvious everyone was nervous for Dr. Crane. The last thing we needed was another doctor in the hospital - and the State Board hadn't even sent their psychiatrist yet. There was a good chance that his outburst the other day had written him an immediate pass to Blackgate.

"Dr. Crane, meeting with the Joker. November 20th, 12:07 PM. Good morning, Mr. Joker. How have your past two days been?" Crane's smooth voice asked over the speakers.

"Fine and dandy, Doc," The Joker said, his voice high and excited. He lifted his head and those dark eyes stared straight into the camera. I held my breath at the intensity. The eye contact wasn't even direct and it was still frightening. His words bounced around in my head from the other day. His face was finally free of make-up and he looked outstandingly different. Other than the large haphazard scars on his cheeks, you never would've put this face together with the man who'd thrown Gotham into a frenzy not three weeks ago.

"That's very good to hear." Crane shuffled some papers behind the camera. "Is your transition to Arkham going well?"

He shrugged slightly melodramatically. "I adjust to my surroundings good." His words were simple but his voice was tinged with a strange excitement. Something bad was going to happen, I could feel it. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I didn't care. Crane needed to get out of there.

Crane replied, "That's very good to hear. As long as things go well for another week or so, we should have you in your own cell with the other inmates quickly."

"Oh, I don't mind solitary, _dear Dr. Crane. _It gives me..." He smacked his lips. "Time to _think._"

"What do you like to think about in solitary confinement? Arkham? Gotham? Your past? The choices you've made?" He asked, probing, but not sounding intrusive, only curious. One of the doctors behind me was taking notes. I could hear the pen scribbling.

It took Joker a minute to reply, but when he did, it was worth it. "Oblivion."

"Oblivion? Care to be more specific?"

"Oblivion... Human nature. Same thing, _really. _Infinity. Mortality. Chaos. _Anarchy._ They all are so... _Funny._" He giggled. It was strange, fitting that noise with that word. It _was _a giggle, but it was so much more... Violent. I wish I knew how a giggle could sound violent.

Crane let him finish laughing and then asked, "And that appeals to you, yes?"

He laughed again, a loud cackle, and you could see his stained teeth. "No, doc, _not even slightly!_" He paused to continue with his hooting. "I'm the _Joker. _I _live _simply for the joke."

"I'm sorry, I suppose that was a silly question."

"A bit _redundant _maybe," He murmured under his breath, laughter all but vanished in his voice. His mood swings were hard to keep up with, and I was on the edge of my seat knowing that while one second he could be chatty and nice, the next he could have your jugular slashed by a desk corner. I swallowed thickly at the thought. He sat up straight then, leaning forward and gesturing towards Dr. Crane with his hands. "Look, listen," He told him, licking his lips and the jagged edges of his scars. "This little... Project you all have? Your mission to _save the crazies of Gotham _and all that? It's all a big waste of your time. We all experience sanity a little different, don't you think, Doc? We experience sanity different and if someone sees it _differently, _you worry it isn't really _there._ So, really... We all have a bit of crazy in us... Don't we, _Crow?_" He purred, a demented, gravelly sound. He'd called him by the wrong name. The Joker didn't strike me as the kind of guy to forget his doctor's name.

Crane's voice snapped me back to reality. "I think that's enough for the day, Mr. Joker. This session has been helpful."

"Too _scared _to stick around, Doctor?" He giggled again and I jumped. I'd probably had too much caffeine. I heard Crane stand and shuffle around as Joker continued to talk. "If you decide not to come back, send in that pretty little blonde thing," He growled, his black eyes shifting to the camera. My heart stopped in my chest. I knew Sean and the others were looking at me but I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen. Just as he started to laugh, Crane switched off the camera.

"What is this fascination he has with you?" Crane asked, palms out on his desk, standing over it and looking tense. Sean was in the room, too, and Brenda. We were all awkwardly spaced around Crane's office.

"It's not even a fascination," I replied. "He's only acknowledged me twice."

Brenda shrugged a shoulder. "He's a man. As psychotic and inhuman as he may seem, he's still human, and any man that came here and saw a pretty twenty year-old blonde in a pencil skirt, probably would react the same way." I flushed at the blunt way she talked about me, making it seem like I was a tease and dressing provocatively. I didn't dress like a sixty year-old, but I didn't dress like a whore either. Sean was about to interject a comment when Crane replied.

"It's still worrisome."

"Maybe it'd do us some good to send Harleen in next," Sean said. "Obviously he's having fun picking at the other doctors. Maybe if he is interested in her, he'll play it safe." We all stared at him with wide eyes. Send me in? It took me a moment to formulate a response.

"Joker isn't one to play anything safe," I murmured under my breath, although I knew if Crane agreed, I'd be willing to talk to him. The thought of him attacking me like Lawrence, though, haunted me.

"Are you crazy, Warren? She's only just finishing up with her first patient. I've been working here for six years and I still had trouble with being in the same room as him." Hearing Dr. Crane being somewhat humble surprised me. I wasn't surprised by his lack of faith in me, though.

I cleared my throat. "What if we did a sort of test run? Ten minutes with him, straight jacket, ankle cuffs, orderly, the whole shabang, just to see how he acts." I swallowed after I spoke, anxious about his reply. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a second before sighing.

"Lawrence comes back tomorrow. Talk to _him _about it. Now, I have work to do. If everyone could please..." He gestured towards the door, and with pursed lips I did as I was told. I wasn't sure if I was flattered that Dr. Crane was worried about me being alone with the Joker, or offended by how little he trusted me as a doctor. I knew what it was going to be like in that room with the Joker. I'd already made eye contact with him once, and the initial shock had already hit me. I'd heard him speak, watched his sessions. I knew I could handle myself, for ten minutes at _least. _And I _was _curious about how he'd act…

Sean's voice interrupted my thoughts and made me gasp. I hadn't realized how lost I had been in my own head. "I'm sure you could handle yourself." My mouth twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. "Do you want to go grab a drink with me tonight? I could honestly use a break." I blinked, somewhat embarrassed by the offer. He must have saw the hesitation in my eyes, because he continued: "Not a date, Harleen. Just two co-workers." I couldn't lie, the offer did sound nice. Since I'd been in Gotham, my entire life has revolved around school, and then after that, my work. I hadn't really made any friends. The loneliness stayed hidden most of the time, but the proposition of going out to have a drink with one of my few acquaintances sounded refreshing.

"You know, I'd honestly love that. Let me grab my stuff, and I'll meet you…?" I questioned.

"Have you been to the Iceberg Lounge before?" He asked, swinging his own coat off his arm and around his shoulders. I'd heard of it, but never been there. The famous Oswald Cobblepot (rare collector, and presumed criminal time and time again) had owned it for years, and while slightly upperclass, not terribly priced. I'd heard only good things.

I smiled and said, "I haven't actually. But I've heard great things. I'll meet you there in fifteen, alright?"

"Sounds great. I'll be the depressed guy taking shots at the bar and telling my life story to the bartender."

"I'll keep an eye out!" I shouted as he turned and walked down the hall. It took me all but two minutes to get to my office. Arkham was closed for the night, most people gone, night-shift already coming in. Only the stray doctor was still here, awaiting a sleepless night of paperwork, ending with falling asleep on their desk. I knew that well – that had been me many times. My closet of an office was dark except for the faint light coming in through the window. By this point in November, it got dark around seven every night. I grabbed my coat off the chair and threw it over my arm, shuffling my papers into a neat (enough) pile.

"I bet your friends call you _Harley, _don't they?" A purring voice asked from the shadows of my office. I gasped, dropping the stack of papers onto the floor. That voice. I _knew _that voice. _Come and see me sometime, toots! _Automatically I shifted back into the wall, unaware of just how far or close he was from me. The Joker was in my office. My heart was frantically beating against my rib cage. "_Well? Do they?_" He inquired. Why was it that I couldn't pinpoint where his voice was coming from? It was such a powerful sound, so chilling and yet so commanding. It was all around me.

"Some of them," I whispered.

"Do you mind if _I _call you Harley?" He continued, his voice rising and falling in certain places for unneeded emphasis. It made everything he said seem that much more… Intense. Intense and dangerous. Just because of some exaggerated pronunciations. Deciding that keeping myself cornered wasn't the best plan of action and knowing that the door was only a few feet to my left, I inched slowly in that direction, purposefully avoiding the sliver of moonlight shining through the blinds. One of my hands was clasped over my nose and mouth, trying to stifle my breathing, and the other was blinding feeling the wall, looking for the doorknob. "_Boo_," His voice whispered in my ear and I shrieked. I was too late, though and his palm clasped over my mouth, replacing where mine had been – only much more suffocating. "Sh, sh, sh, sh… None of that, Harley girl. I just wanna _talk. _Isn't that your job? To, uh, _talk_ to me?" He smacked his lips and I could hear the suction and his even breaths. They hit my ear. Crane had been right. This was definitely more than just a simple attraction to a woman, and even then, I wasn't afraid of him raping me. That was the last thing on my mind. All other forms of torture were bolting through my head.

I gasped, "What do you want?"

He chuckled happily. "Why do I need a motive to want to come see a pretty dame like you? I'd have to be _crazy _not to." He continued laughing and I knew he was mocking us – us, the asylum, or us, humans, I wasn't sure. "_Listen_," He continued, stroking my hair back from my head tenderly but carelessly. "None of these doctors here _get me, _ya see? There's something different about you, Harley girl, something I like, something I _trust._" The rhythmic petting of my hair was starting to become strangely comforting in an odd way. He wasn't being rough, though it wasn't a tender embrace. "I think I'd like to talk to _you, _sweetheart." He giggled as he finished talking. "_Now. _Since I've gotten my _point across, _why don't you go meet your little friend at the Iceberg Lounge and have a drink, on me." I frowned in confusion. How did he know I was going there? How did he _get out of his cell? _Suddenly he grabbed my hand roughly and wrenched my fingers open, shoving something smooth and thin into my palm and then wrapping my fingers back around it. "Give this to old Penguin for Daddy, won't you?" He hissed into my ear and I nodded, swallowing hard and gasping for air against his large palm. His fingers were long, scholar fingers, that reached from one side of my jaw to the other. "That's a girl." His dark silhouette moved from behind me and I leaned against the wall, trying to find balance.

"My coat," I said quietly, ashamed of how hoarse my voice was. Those same slender, strong hands wrapped my jacket around my shoulders and handed me a stack of papers just as I finished speaking. I immediately bolted out of my office and didn't stop moving till I was out to the parking lot. The thought of telling the guards he was out was appealing, though I had no intention of going back in that building. And he didn't seem… Dangerous. Not then, at least. I knew he was dangerous, obviously, but he wasn't trying to kill anyone, or at least that's how it seemed. My stomach rolled and I rested my forehead against the cold window of my car. The cold felt nice against my burning skin. Once I felt stable enough, I got into my car and set my papers down. It took me a moment to realize what I was forgetting. I shuffled through the stack until I found it, the smooth laminated paper. I turned the card over and my stomach flipped at the picture of a joker.

**Everyone ready for some Cobblepot? He always adds a little fishy class to things, don't you think? Please, please, please review. Writing the Joker is one of the hardest things to do, because he's such an enigma (No Riddler pun intended). Tell me how it sounds, what you think about what he says, if I absolutely suck, if you love it, if you're excited for more Crane, or for Penguin or more Mistah J! I love reviews as much as giant purple coats. **


	4. Chapter 4

**chapter 4**

I fingered the joker card in my coat pocket as I walked through the grandeur doors of the Iceberg Lounge. A man in a suit stood behind a podium up to my left and smiled at me happily. "Evening miss. Table for one?"

"I'm actually meeting someone, a Sean Warren?" I looked around the large room curiously, feeling terribly out of place and terribly anxious at the same time. A drink had never sounded so good. I was still debating whether or not to tell Sean what happened, but ultimately decided against it. I believed the Joker wouldn't hurt anyone as long as no one stepped in. He just wanted to talk, he said. I must be crazy for trusting him even slightly. The host looked up from the seating book and smiled.

"He's just this way, ma'am," He said and started to move from behind the podium.

"Ah – I realize this is probably a request that can't be filled, but is there any way I can speak to Mr. Cobblepot before I'm seated. Could you tell him it's urgent, please?" My voice cracked on the last word. I didn't think it was terribly wise to talk to Cobblepot, but I was so terribly curious about what this card represented. The host frowned and asked for my name, probably confused as to why some middle-class, 5'4 woman with no history with him was asking for the owner. I only hoped Cobblepot would acquiesce to my request. Ten minutes later, I was still waiting when I saw the elevator light up from the top floor. It made its way down much too slowly and the anticipation was killing me. Who else would it be, but him? I wasn't disappointed when the door opened, and the stout man stepped out of the elevator. He roamed the room with his eyes before pausing on me, looking up and down and raising an eyebrow.

"Miss Quinzel?" He asked, his strong British accent twisting my name. His puffing on a cigar didn't help either.

"Dr. Quinzel, actually." I stretched out my hand and he took it, still curiously appraising me.

"What can I do ya for, Doctor?" He asked me.

"Actually, I was wondering if we could have a moment of privacy." His eyebrow raised again and there was a glint in his eye that made my stomach twist. The fact that he'd even assume… I straightened up and gave him a professional enough scowl.

He rolled his eyes at my pride and said, "This'd better not be a waste of my time, Dr. Quinzel. I'm a busy man," He led me back to the open elevator where two men in suits waited with their hands laced in front of them. They didn't look at me as I followed Cobblepot into the elevator, or the entire ride up to the penthouse.

It was nothing less than expected. Icy decorations made up the walls and rare paintings and statues were placed haphazardly around the room. It gave off an aura of superiority, and also the slight smell of… Fish. I wrinkled my nose. He gestured to his own personal mini bar and I took a seat, crossing my legs and he sat down two seats away. One of his employees stepped up to fill a glass with scotch and handed it to him without being asked. He gestured to me, inquiring about a drink. "No thank you, I'm meeting a friend downstairs in a few minutes."

"I see. So, Doctor. What's all this about?" He asked, leaning against the bar and sipping on his scotch. He dubbed out his cigar on the ashtray, his fingers as stubby as the cigar.

I cleared my throat. "I have something for you." He didn't react much until I pulled out the card and slid it face-up towards him on the bar. His whole body froze and his fingers were white-knuckling the glass.

"So you're working with J, then, eh?" He questioned, loudly. It took all of two seconds for three guns to be pulled out and pointed directly at my head. I swallowed. This was more excitement in one night than I'd had in a lifetime, and I couldn't tell if I liked it or not. The adrenaline was messing with my head. I could feel myself becoming a little more confident with Cobblepot, but the guns weren't helping.

"I don't work with him, no."

"What does he want then? Me to kill you? Why didn't he just do it himself?" It was obvious Cobblepot was frightened. Joker had something on him. Something big. I had no doubt that Cobblepot was just as big a part of the Gotham Rogues as everyone had ever thought.

"All he said was I should have a drink on him. Then he told me to give you that card." I watched him furtively, twirling his card between his short fingers. I anxiously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

It took him a minute to reply. "Who are you, Dr. Quinzel? And why is the Joker buying you drinks?"

"I'm trying to answer that question myself, Mr. Cobblepot..."

The answer seemed to satisfy him enough and without looking away from me, he said, "Johnson, Harrison. Escort the Doctor to her friend. The best seats we have. Drinks are on the house." I blinked at the generosity, even though I knew he wasn't being generous. Joker had something on him, and he owed him a favor. And for some reason, Joker had decided the favor would be treating me. "You have a safe night, Dr. Quinzel."

I immediately rushed to stop him. I couldn't accept that courtesy, especially without having earned it. And I most definitely wasn't in cahoots with the Joker. "You don't have to do that, Mr. Cobblepot. I just wanted to know what the card meant..."

"Oh, sweetheart. You really don't know the Joker, do ya?" He chuckled and took a swig of scotch. "Don't worry. If he's buying you drinks, I'm sure you'll be well acquainted sooner rather than later. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting in ten minutes with a client."

"Of course. Thank you, really," I stumbled over my words and then followed the two suits into the elevator. The ride down seemed to last longer than up. Once we were downstairs, the man to my left gestured at the host and then to me. The host from earlier seemed surprised to see me, and I didn't let myself question why. My blood was still pumping fast and my mind was racing and the last thing I needed was to get myself more anxious. The host guided me towards the bar and I saw Sean sitting disheveled at it. He had some kind of light brown drink and was swirling it around in his glass.

"Mr. Warren, sir?" The host asked. Sean turned around and frowned at me. I gave him a half smile, hoping it would show my apology until later. "We have a seat on the Iceberg reserved for you and Dr. Quinzel."

"Ah, why exactly?" Sean asked. "And it's Dr. Warren." I could see the look of irritation in the host's eye. He was probably very done with doctors.

"Dr. Quinzel and Mr. Cobblepot have an arrangement, sir. Follow me, please." Sean grabbed his bag and jacket and started to walk behind me, leaving his glass on the table. He didn't speak until the host had left with our orders and then he gaped.

"You have an _arrangement?_"

I flushed. "It's a new thing. Hard to explain."

"Do you even know how hard it is to get seats above the Iceberg? Even with long term reservations. Are you involved with the mob or something?" I laughed quietly at his comment but I could tell he was borderline serious. I didn't know what to tell him and there was a growing pit in my stomach that was obviously anxiety. Where was my drink?

I sighed. "No, I'm not in the mob. It just so happens that a..." I hesitated. "Friend... Of mine was owed a favor, and they redeemed it on me having five-star service?" It sounded crazy, and in all rights and purposes, it was. I couldn't help but wonder where the Joker was at this moment. I wondered if he had gone back to his cell. Maybe he was still in my office. The thought of those long graceful hands flipping through my notes, him sitting at my desk made my stomach twist again. It was a strange feeling.

"What friend? I'm at a loss, Harleen."

"I am too," I whispered. A waiter appeared with two drinks in his hand, one glass of brandy for Sean and a gin and tonic for me. I took a swig from my glass and sighed, feeling the warmth spread throughout my belly from the alcohol. "Do you work tomorrow?" I asked.

He nodded. "I have a session with Nigma in the morning and some paperwork to fill out, but then I can clock out." Edward Nigma was Sean's biggest case yet and he'd have a rough time with him so far. The Riddler, as he was known to Gotham, was a very hard person to communicate with. Almost everything he said was a puzzle to solve and if you didn't know the answer, the entire conversation came to a halt. Sean had rented at least seven books of riddles before he'd even began therapy.

"Is it looking up?" I asked, desperately trying to fuel the conversation.

He groaned. "Let's not talk about work. It kills my buzz." Well, there was one more bullet dodges. I didn't know if I could think about anything but work though. Joker was haunting my mind and what I realized too late was that alcohol was not the answer to wanting to clear your head. Not unless you got wasted, which was not something I wanted to do. "Are you going to the memorial for Dent tomorrow?"

"Is it a public thing?" I asked.

"Of course it is. The funeral wasn't, but this is in the middle of town."

"I don't know. It's not like I knew him. I guess it would be right to pay my respects, though." I swirled my glass, looking out the window over Gotham. The lights were bright against the twilight sky and you could hear the faint sounds of cars and sirens below.

Sean nodded absently. "I don't guess the Batman will be there." I pursed my lips. It wasn't a statement I had a response to. Ever since the Joker took over Gotham, ending in the death of Harvey Dent and his girlfriend, Batman had gone from hero to zero in a nanosecond. He'd apparently been the one to cause a number of deaths in the couple days of horror, including three cops. I couldn't bring myself to wrap my head around it, though. Up until then, the Batman had sworn off killing, leaving all his victims trussed up and a little bruised, but nothing more. It made no sense. And the timing of Dent's accident and death were much too perfect. I couldn't put a finger on it, but for some reason I knew the Batman was innocent.

"Probably not," I replied, finally.

"Maybe up in the shadows," He murmured. My lips turned up into a slight smile. "I know I said we shouldn't talk about work, but I'm curious about something."

"Hm?" I mused, finally facing him and cocking my head to the side.

"When I suggested you going in with the Joker, you didn't seem frightened in the slightest." He raised his eyebrows. "Does he not scare you?" The flashback of him in my office made my chest ache and I blinked in surprise at the wave of adrenaline I felt coursing through my veins.

Finally, I spoke. "He terrifies me." As an after thought, I added, "But he's also fascinating beyond belief." The fingers of my left hand tingled in response to the memory of his hands shoving the joker card into my palm.

"Do you want to work with him?"

"I don't know. I think he wants me to."

Sean nodded. "Why? Not saying there isn't any reason he shouldn't, but… Why?" I shook my head, at a loss. "I wonder why Crane freaked out in the session."

I was roped back into the conversation, now that I wasn't the topic. "I don't know." I hadn't really thought about it much, yet. But the way he suddenly bolted out of there and was so uneasy seemed slightly strange. Especially because the Joker really _hadn't _said anything to get to him. It was scary that he knew just which buttons to push with each and every person he met. "Crane makes me uncomfortable."

"He makes everyone uncomfortable," Sean huffed. I chuckled in response. "This was nice though, Quinzel, even though you were only here about fifteen minutes," He said as he checked his watch. He dropped a few bills on the table. "But I've gotta head on home."

"Drinks are on me," I urged him, pushing the cash towards him. He narrowed his eyes.

"Give it to your friend. For their hospitality." I pursed my lips but he waved and smiled and slid out of the chair. I watched him go as I finished my gin and tonic.

**"Quinzel**, come with me." The tone of Crane's voice was one not to be trifled with and I briskly followed behind him as he led me upstairs to the cell block. Inside the High-Security wing of Intensive Treatment (or what we call the Rogues Gallery) it was quiet. Most of the patients had gone to breakfast, though the occasional cell was occupied.

"What's going on, Dr. Crane?" I asked, suddenly very worried. I was hardly ever admitted in the Gallery, what with being a resident psychiatrist. I knew it was serious.

"He's been doing this all morning. No one can get him to respond to anything. Not food, not conversation, not nothing, he doesn't even seem to realize when someone is in the room with him."

"Jonathan, _what _are you talking about?" I demanded, getting more anxious by the second. I knew who he was talking about though, it was obvious. It was Joker. Suddenly, I heard his voice from around the corner.

"_Harley, Harley, Harley... _Wanna rev up my _Har_ley," He giggled wildly. The adrenaline was pumping again. He was talking about me. "Have a drink on _me, _sweetheart, come talk to _me! _But the dames never listen, _do they?!_" He shouted. My stomach clenched. What all had he revealed since he'd been rambling? Did they know he had been in my office? Talked to me? Touched me? As we approached the one way glass, all the guards quieted down and stepped away. The Joker was licking his lips, twitching and looking at nothing in particular. He looked so innocent, so childlike, sitting on the floor against his bed with his legs kicked out haphazardly. He froze instantly. "You're _here, _Harley, aren't _you?_" Crane looked shocked and almost angry at the realization. How did he know I was here? He slowly stood and approached the one-way glass, eyes roaming unfocused like a blind person. He couldn't see me. I realized I was trembling. "How was Pengy?" He murmured and then burst out into a raging fit of laughter. I stepped back, frightened by the outburst.

"What is he _talking_ about?" Crane demanded to no one in particular.

"I have no idea," I replied, my voice tight. "He's insane."

Crane rubbed his temples. "Lawrence wants to talk to you in his office."

"Am I in trouble?" I asked.

"No, I don't believe so." He gave me a tired smile. "Good luck though, Harleen."

"Thank you," I replied, and gave him a tight lipped grin in return. So many thoughts were running through my head. Some about Lawrence, some about Joker... Okay, a lot about Joker. What was his enthrallment with me? We'd hardly even spoke. I flushed as I remembered Brenda's comments. That couldn't be it though. He'd had a chance to do anything to me... And he'd bought me drinks. Another headache was starting to build behind my eyes. He was so intriguing. And also a bit infuriating. Once I reached Lawrence's office, I shut out all my imposing thoughts. He had a bandage around one side of his head, covering his ear and a bit of his hair. He looked tired, but in good condition. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

"Morning, Dr. Quinzel. Thank you for coming up." I nodded in response. He cleared his throat. "I had a conversation with Dr. Warren this morning, and Dr. Crane. You were a topic of discussion." My stomach clenched.

"Ah, why is that?" I questioned him.

"You know why. You just don't want to admit it. There's something about you that the Joker is drawn to, and we want to know what it is."

"What's your suggestion?"

"We want you to have a session with him." He waited for a response and when he realized I had a very small reaction, he continued. "Not a full therapy session, just enough to see what he wants to say." That didn't sound good to me. Who knew what he'd reveal to them in a session? It didn't seem like he wanted to get me in trouble though... He _did_ go back to his cell last night. My head pounded.

Finally, I cleared my throat into my fist and said, "When?"

"Today."

I gaped at him. "Today? Don't I need time to prepare?"

"He hunts out weaknesses, and tactics and flaws in our plans, if you just... Wing it... Maybe he'll respond better."

"Doctor, with all due respect..."

He cut me off immediately. "Quinzel, you can handle this. I know you can. I've seen how you handle yourself around the patients. Just give it a try." He looked sincere in his asking and I knew I wouldn't refuse this opportunity. The only thing that worried me was going in without a game plan. Being spontaneous with the Joker seemed a little... Asking for it. I nodded and Dr. Lawrence sighed in relief. "Thank you, Harleen. You have an hour to get yourself ready."

"Yes, sir," I replied, and stood, immediately leaving the room. Heels clicking loudly on the tile of the empty hallway, I ducked into the nearest bathroom and leaned back against the wall. My blood was pumping fast.

I was about to have a session with the Joker. Me. A resident psychiatrist! My hands grabbed at the counter and I looked at my reflection. Amongst all my other thoughts and dilemmas about this, I hadn't even thought about how big this could be for my career. With that encouraging thought, I straightened my shoulders, adjusted my glasses on my nose and sighed. "You can do this, Harleen. You're a strong, intelligent woman. Go kick some ass," I told my reflection.

My office didn't seem as safe as usual. As I walked in, goosebumps raised on my arms and I looked around every corner, even though I knew the Joker was safe in his cell. _I wanna rev up my Harley. _I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had an hour to calm my nerves down. I knew I was wasting my breath.

An hour passed slower than I would've liked before I was summoned by Dr. Lawrence. Outside the room where the Joker waited, Crame and Lawrence both stood, waiting for me. Two orderlies were by the door. They both quieted down as I approached. "Ready, Dr. Quinzel?"

"As I'll ever be," I returned.

"Good luck, Doctor," Crane told me in his low, smooth voice. He was watching me intently with those large blue eyes. I bit my lip hard on the inside. There it was again, that intensity in his look.

"Thank you," I replied. I nodded to the orderlies and they opened the door for me. I walked in silently, other than the tapping of my heels until I reached the dark green carpet. I sat on my side of the desk and adjusted my papers and glasses, avoiding looking at my patient just yet. I clicked on the camcorder. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel in session with the Joker. November 21st, 2014, 10:01 AM. Good morning, Mr. Joker." I finally raised my eyes to his and was relieved that the camera wasn't on my face. I tensed up and knew I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost. Seeing those eyes on the camera and from far away was _nothing_ compared to the real thing. They swallowed me up, they were so dark. I couldn't tell the pupils from the iris.

"You _came,_ you darling girl, you," He said playfully and batted his eyelashes. He was slouching on the couch, his head angled down, matted green and blonde curls framing his face and those eyes... Staring into my soul.

"I was told you wanted to see me," I replied coolly, trying to keep my voice monotonous. His fingers were clenching and unclenching in his palm and it reminded me of last night. I could feel his hand against my face again. His lips twitched upward for a moment, stretching his scars.

"Why so _serious_, Harley girl?" He sang darkly.

"Mr. Joker, I'd really prefer if you would call me Dr. Quinzel, or even just Doctor."

"What if we make a trade?" He asked. "A... _Nickname _for a _joke._" He raised his eyebrows twice in quick succession.

I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. "I'm not interested in jokes, Mr. Joker. I want to get to know you."

"How about this... You call me... J? And I call you Harley. Aren't we supposed to be _comfortable _with each other, doc?" The way he spoke was so rhythmic it was almost lulling. It was like he had his own strange beat in his head that he spoke along with. Although, the name trade did seem like a good idea. Calling him J might establish a form of familiarity and letting him call me Harley showed I trusted him. First names showed a level of intimacy. Maybe the cold, hard, clinical doctor routine wasn't the way to get through to the Joker. Of course it wasn't. Cold, hard and clinical were the very antithesis of what he stood for.

"Alright... How do you feel about Mr. J?"

He giggled and tapped his toes and feet happily, making his chains shake. "For _you, Harley... _Anything."

"That's something I wanted to ask you about, Mr. J. Why is it that you're more comfortable speaking to me than to the other doctors? Did they do something to offend or frighten you?"

He sighed heavily and the contours of his chest were visible through the thin jumpsuit. It was obvious he was thin, but also quite muscular and lean. I figured he had to be, from being on the run all the time. "I'm a, uh, _observer_, Harley. A people-watcher. Always have been, for as long as I can remember. It's easy to tell when I'm gonna... _Get along _with someone right from the get go. You've got _spunk, _kid, real spirit. I can see it."

I watched him with my head curiously tilted to the side as he spoke. The fact that he had singled me out, amongst these dozens of people... Was it wrong that I felt... Slightly superior now? Special? I knew very well he was probably just manipulating me but... He still chose me. "I'm a driven individual, yes. I hope that you can find these reasons to open up with me. I always like to establish a comfortable relationship with my patients."

"I'm comfortable. Don't you worry," He purred. With that, he collapsed back against his chair and made himself right at home on the couch. He looked so confident. I'd never seen that look of control and superiority on any other patient... Or any other _person, _actually.

He wore it well.

He paused suddenly and leaned forward, eyeing me intently and I felt frozen to my seat. I should've been talking but I couldn't. "... Do you wanna know how I got these _scars?_" He questioned curiously. Without further thought I nodded.

I realized the people watching this tape were probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. I cleared my throat and shook myself off. "Yes, please." He was opening up! Telling me things! I didn't even have to ask.

"I was involved with the, uh, _wrong crowd _from an early age," He told me, not breaking the eye contact. His tongue slipped out against his scars, wetting his mouth. "I was thirteen the first time I _killed. _But we all know, torture is a lot different than murder, right doc? _Imagine this... _Fifteen year old little Joker, knife in hand, standing over the body of..." He licked his lips again, and his nose twitched. "Well I never knew his _name. _They just told me he was _bad. _A bad man. A, uh, enemy. I was supposed to torture him. Get him to tell them something we didn't know. _I couldn't. Me!_" He burst out laughing, his mouth stretched wide in a grin, his stained teeth showing. "What a riot, Harley girl, I'll tell ya! _So, _me watching, the gang leader approached him and just started... Stabbing things into his palms, nailing them down into the table. He _screamed _for_ever. _I remember I tried to run away, but they held me back. Told me, 'Boy, you're either with us or against us.' _They slit the edges of my mouth... _And then they started punching me and beating me... And then... _I screamed._" He sat back against the couch, watching me with a strange expression. I realized I was leaning halfway across the desk, engrossed in the story. I leaned back abruptly. He giggled slightly.

"How did you become the Joker then? If you were unwilling to do those things?" I straightened my glasses on my nose and tried to busy myself with jotting down notes. I was still shivering from his story.

"Madness is a _slippery slope, _my dear! We all fall down it sooner or later!" He giggled again, a loud violent sound. The sound of his laughter was interrupted as the door opened and Lawrence stood, face stony in the doorway. "Doctor _Lawrence! Oh, _I am _so _pleased to know you're, uh, feeling better," The Joker growled slowly.

"Dr. Quinzel," He said, ignoring the Joker's comment. "Your time is up."

I frowned but knew better than to argue with my superior while in front of a patient. Silently fuming, and more than a little disappointed, I gathered my things and said, "It was nice speaking to you, Mr. J."

"Always a pleasure, Harley," He purred after me.

**Oh, how I love writing J! He can be so difficult sometimes, but it's always worth it in the end. I hope you all enjoyed my coffee-induced 3am writing. I'm updating like a spastic because I'm so excited about this story. I have a lot of exciting stuff coming up. Please stick around and remember to tell me what you think. Feedback is wonderful. But more specifically, I'm curious as to how you guys are viewing these progressions? What's been your favorite part, and who is your favorite character? Things like that. Anywho, I must return to watching Assault on Arkham. My coffee is getting cold. (You'll notice that Harley's coffee drinking habits are related to me.) Thank you all, my fellow jesters!**


	5. Chapter 5

**chapter 5**

"What are you doing?" I hissed to Lawrence as soon as we were out of earshot.

"It was just a test run, Harley, not a full session. It isn't like he was being honest with you, either," He scolded me. It felt like a slap in the face.

"How do you know he wasn't?" I demanded. This was the first time id ever spoken back to him, and I could tell he didn't like it.

He firmly replied, "He's told a dozen different stories of how he got those scars. Listen, Harleen, we just wanted to see how he'd do and it was everything we expected. I'm not sending you back in with him until we're sure no other, more qualified doctors respond well with him."

"More qualified!" I spat. "You can't tell me I didn't do great in there. I kept my cool and didn't get my head bashed in, like some people." He glared at me.

"You were highly nervous, it was obvious, you let him take too much control of the session, you let him give you a _nickname,_" He counted off the reasons on his fingers.

"Obviously orthodox methods don't work with him. If I establish some sort of familiarity and comradery, maybe he'll talk to me," I ushered. It was true and he knew it. Any other doctor who went in there like Lawrence and Crane did would end up injured, dead or fucked in the head. I was a good bet. The superiority of J's approval was going to my head fast. I hadn't been this cocky yesterday.

He shook his head. "I don't know, Harleen. It just seems like we're asking for trouble. I don't want you to get hurt." His concern for my well being snapped me out of my rampage momentarily and I frowned.

"Dr. Lawrence, I know, and it's completely understandable but I know what I'm getting myself into. If I thought I couldn't handle it or it would be too much," I paused. _If _he _would be too much. _"I wouldn't put myself in that position."

He stared at me through narrow eyes for a minute before pointing his index finger at me. "I'll _think _about it, Quinzel. Don't get your hopes up."

Inside, I was thrilled that Id managed to convince him this much. On the outside, I remained cool and collected and smiled, saying nothing more than a polite, "Thank you, Dr. Lawrence. You won't be disappointed." He just sighed as he walked away. Too excited to eat, I spent my lunch break writing down notes about the session, including as much of the conversation as I could remember. It was odd - now that Id experienced the ardor of being up close and personal with J, my office and the asylum at large seemed a little duller, a little less... Exciting. That wasn't the right word, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I just knew I wanted to talk to J again. A knock on the door made me jump back into reality. "Uh, yes?" I asked, unsure. I felt as if I'd just gotten caught stealing.

Sean opened the door a crack. "Mind if I come in?"

"Not at all," I told him, and somewhat reluctantly slipped my personal Joker Folder out from in front of me.

"You did good, Quinzel, better than Crane and Lawrence at least." I felt a warmth at his praise and couldn't hold back my unprofessional grin. Laughing, he said, "In all seriousness though," He cleared his throat. "The Harvey Dent memorial is in an hour. Are you coming?" I had completely forgotten about the memorial, in all honesty. Using a break from work might be good though - no matter how depressing that break may be.

"I'll meet you in front of Solomon Wayne, in thirty minutes, alright?" I asked, pushing my glasses up my nose.

"Actual thirty minutes, or are you going to be making more mob deals?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. I flushed. He was obviously suspicious still. Who was I kidding, I was still suspicious!

I cocked my head to the side and tried to smile convincingly. "_Actual_ thirty minutes."

"Wonderful, see you there, Harleen," He replied, closing the office door behind him. I frowned once I was alone. My full name suddenly sounded wrong in my ears.

**The Harvey Dent memorial** was in Gotham Square. The Thanksgiving decorations that had decorated the streets for the past month were taken down and replaced with a large banner of Dent's face and rows of chairs. I rubbed my arms through the sleeves of my coat as I searched the crowd with my eyes from the steps of the courthouse. Commissioner Gordon, Mayor Anthony Garcia, and half a dozen cops were on the stage under Dent's picture, talking hastily. "Well, Dr. Quinzel, what a pleasant surprise," A voice said behind my left shoulder. I jumped out of my thoughts and into reality, gasping slightly at the fright. Dr. Crane stood behind me, a small smile on his lips. "I'm sorry, it seems I have a habit of startling you," He replied.

"I don't get frightened easily, so I think it's just the way you approach me like a ghost," I replied, straightening my bag on my shoulder. He laughed gently. "Are you here for the memorial?" I asked. He was looking at the stage and then blinked, focusing back on me.

"Actually I was at the courthouse for some other business, but I was considering staying for the speech."

"I'm meeting Dr. Warren here," I explained unnecessarily. He nodded and smiled again.

"Mind if I join you all, just to have a place to sit?" I couldn't figure out why the offer made me so uncomfortable. Crane in general wasn't that creepy of a man, but the way he spoke and how he was looking at me just gave me chills. Maybe I'd been spending too much time at the asylum.

Realizing I hadn't replied yet, I spit out, "I don't mind at all." I immediately regretted it. I knew Sean wouldn't like it. Crane smiled again. He inclined his head and gestured out with his arm towards the street.

"After you, Doctor," He murmured. I smiled, tight lipped back at him. I turned my back to him and started to walk towards the street, waiting for an opening to cross. Just as we were across the street, I was suddenly knocked out.

**Large spindly fingers** reached down from nowhere towards my face, nails long and ragged, clawing into my eyes, taking at my teeth and lips and tongue, ripping open my chest. I felt every single rib snapping in half before my heart was grabbed and yanked out. Why wasn't I dead? I could see the long, decaying, inhuman arm holding my beating heart in their hand. How was I still alive? I started to scream as a new weapon pierced through my back, impaling me to the ground. "Sh, sh, sh," A hissing, gravelly voice said in my ear and I flinched away from it, shaking. Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes. What was _happening? _How could someone in this much pain be alive still? "You said you weren't easily frightened, Harleen," The same demonic growl said. I screamed. My eyes finally opened and I came face to face with a gruesome monster. The man in front of me wore a classic gray suit, whose face was stitched across the mouth and around the eyes and was splattered in blood. How he spoke, I did not know.

"Who are you?" I gasped, trying desperately to writhe away. My wrists and waist were locked down tight on what felt like a gurney. The room was too dark to see anything else.

"They call me... Scarecrow," He growled again, though his stitched mouth stayed shut. Blood splattered across me and wherever it hit, it burned my skin. I screamed, my limbs uselessly trying to escape the acidic effects.

"What do you want?" I sobbed, my tears flowing freely now. "Let me go!"

"Shush, Harleen, you'll be gone soon enough," He replied, and started to circle me, the blood dripping on me wherever he paused. "I gave you a concentrated dose. I've never used this version before, but from my research, I'm sure it'll take over your mind soon enough. Just wait," He grumbled. His voice seemed to vibrate in my chest. "Once you're finished, I'll let you go."

I was gasping for air as I writhed on the gurney, my fingernails clawing into the flesh of my palm. The terror was like liquid in my veins, impossible to escape. The Scarecrow was in front of me again, leaning down against the table, watching me with his head cocked to the side. His eyes were visible and obviously human, though the rest of his face looked grotesque and decaying. The eyes were normal. The eyes were a bright blue, a vibrant almost impossible shade of sky and sea and wind all mixed together into one big, beautiful, frightening mess.

Twin giant maggots pushed the eyes out in a bloody hurry and slid through his eye sockets, coming straight for me. I screamed louder than I had before, and it ripped through my throat painfully. The Scarecrow cocked his head to the otherside, unaffected by the pain he must have been feeling. The maggots slithered down my throat and I passed out.

**I woke up in** my own bed.

My body was drenched in sweat and my chest was heaving. I sat up in half a second and was grabbing my chest, my face, my arms. I was intact. Nothing was broken, nothing was cut open. The nightmare had felt so real. I'd never had a dream so lifelike before - and I hoped I never would again. I got out of bed and looked down at my bare feet. I was still in my work clothes, and my skirt was rumpled beyond belief, twisted around my body. Had I not gone to the memorial yesterday? I couldn't remember anything after I spoke with Crane… I shuddered violently at the thought of his face. Those eyes. Those were the eyes in my dream. Why had I imagined Jonathan Crane as a demented torturer? I felt my stomach roll in waves and I clenched my fists, cursing as I did so. I opened my palms to my hand to find red crescent-moon scabs from digging my nails into my flesh while I was sleeping. Groaning, I prayed they'd be healed soon. I didn't need to be going to Arkham and having every shrink in the building diagnosing my night-terrors.

It took me a few minutes to get the will to get out of bed and the first thing I did was head to the coffee pot. As soon as the coffee was brewing, I grabbed my phone and sat down at the island, dialing Sean's number. "Harley?" He seemed surprised to hear from me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sort of. What happened yesterday?" I asked, hesitantly. I rubbed my neck, which had a number of knots in it that I knew would be killing me later on.

"You don't remember?" Before I could respond, he cleared his throat. "You got sick, or at least that's what Crane said. You apparently were feeling faint and just blacked out. He took you home."

"Jonathan did?" I asked, my voice rising in pitch.

"Yeah, why?"

I shook my head and then said, "Just wondering."

"Are you feeling okay? Need me to bring you anything?" I could hear the hum of talking and beeping that meant Arkham in the background and knew that he was probably busy with work.

"No, it's fine. I'm feeling much better."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, Harleen," He told me. We hung up simultaneously. The story made no sense to me. I'd never been prone to fainting and the fact that it happened when it did - when I hadn't felt sick at all - confused me. The sound of the coffee pot not running anymore made me get back up to pour a cup. The hot coffee soothed my raw throat and I drank it in excess, draining half the pot in a matter of twenty minutes. Once I was done and almost completely awake, I changed out of yesterday's clothes. The news replayed the events of Harvey Dent's memorial and I was thankful that I at least was able to pay my respects in some way.

The day passed in excruciating slowness. I hadn't realized how accustomed I'd become to excitement. The past week was filled with so much drama, this was the first time I'd been able to sit and have a day to myself. I didn't know what to do. After going to the gym for a jog and some gymnastic practice, headed back home to change before making a much anticipated stop at the Iceberg Lounge. My black slacks and red button up shirt didn't look overly fancy but were professional enough, I thought. The host didn't recognize me immediately, but when he did, his eyes shot wide open. "Dr. Quinzel!" He greeted. I noted that he called me Doctor this time. I smiled at him hesitantly as he rounded the podium. "Can I take your coat, m'am? Are you here to meet someone?"

"No, no," I told him, gently. "I was wondering if Mr. Cobblepot was free." He paused and I knew it was probably a lot to ask. Cobblepot (or the Penguin, as J liked to call him) was a busy man who didn't want to be bothered. But of course, I knew he wouldn't refuse my request.

"Let me call. One moment, Dr. Quinzel. Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, nervous. I hated to make him feel anxious, but I also felt powerful in that moment. I shook my head nonchalantly.

"No thank you," I replied. I glanced down at his nametag. "Aaron." He smiled at me as he turned to go make his phone call. I couldn't hear the hushed words he was saying, but a few moments later, the elevator opened and he gestured me towards it.

"Mr. Cobblepot is waiting upstairs for you, Doctor," He told me. I nodded politely and made my way towards the elevator, adjusting my bag on my shoulder and pushing my glasses up on my nose. I had so many questions for Cobblepot. The majority of which were Joker related. The next two minutes seemed to take an eternity. Once I was upstairs I was greeted by the smell of alcohol, fish and cigar smoke and the sound of smooth jazz playing over speakers. Before I'd laid eyes on Cobblepot, he'd already seen me coming out of the elevator.

His thick accent greeted loudly, "Dr. Quinzel, what do I owe the pleasure?"

I turned around and walked across the hardwood floor towards the bar. He was nursing a glass of scotch, a cigar in his other hand and his cane propped up next to him. He stood from his chair and sat his drink down, huffing a large puff of smoke in front of him. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all, sweetheart," He told me. His thugs were sitting around haphazardly in the room, some playing cards, some smoking their cigarettes. One was polishing his gun.

"I had some questions, Mr. Cobblepot,"

"Please, call me Penguin," He told me, with a grin. "Only strangers call me Cobblepot. And these idiots," He muttered, gesturing towards his goons. The closest man rolled his eyes at the Penguin, then turned back to his poker game, throwing his cards down in irritation.

I exhaled in a slightly awkward laugh. "Of course, Mr… Ah, Penguin." He laughed at that.

"So what did you have to ask me, darling?" He asked, puffing on the cigar in his hands. As I readied myself to speak, he held out a cigar to me from the bar and I hesitated. I'd never had a cigar before. I bit my lip and nodded. I placed it in my mouth and he lit the lighter directly underneath and the smoke drifted into my mouth. I coughed slightly.

"Well, first things first, I wanted to know about the Joker."

"Shouldn't you know, Dr.?" He asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

"We've only spoken twice, and didn't really have the time to… Get to know each other." I frowned to myself, thinking about the short moments we conversed. He was so strange, so fascinating, so frightening, so… I frowned even harder as the word beautiful popped into my mind. The fact that I'd had such an unprofessional thought made me flush internally.

Cobblepot sighed loudly. "Well, sweets, I wish there was something to tell. We've done business together many times and we run in the same circle, but… He's a real riddle, girl. Maybe you should go talk to Edward Nigma," He laughed. I pursed my lips slightly in a smile. I wonder what Sean would have to say about that.

"Why did you owe him a favor? I don't understand." I huffed again on the cigar, finally getting accustomed to the taste and feeling of the smoke.

"The Joker got rid of a problem for me a while back," He replied. "You know the Harvey Dent incident."

"That was because of you?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Not exactly. I didn't ask him to do it, but he got done the job I needed and I told him I owed him one. I didn't know he'd choose to redeem it on something as frivolous as a girl. Who knew J even had those feelings?"

"I still don't think he does. His interest in me isn't romantic, Oswald," I replied, and there was a sharp ping in my chest that made me frown. I didn't know how I felt about it. He waved me away, ignoring my denial.

"Still. I'm glad it was you. Taking care of a beautiful woman is easy, compared to everything I'd ever considered."

I flushed. "Can you think of any reason why he'd have some sort of interest in me?"

The Penguin shrugged as he dabbed out his cigar. "What all has he said to you? If it isn't too bold to ask." I rubbed my neck, trying to think of his words.

"He told me I was different from the other doctors. I had spirit. I was someone he could… Talk to," I said, not meeting his eyes. I huffed once more on the cigar, blowing the smoke out in a circle around Cobblepot's face. It didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

"Are you his psychiatrist? Do you work for the state, or for Arkham?" He questioned.

I shrugged. "Well, I work at Arkham Asylum. I don't think you'd consider me his psychiatrist, though. I was a bit of a last resort. He seemed to like me, and wasn't responding very well to the other doctors, so they sent me in and… He talked to me." I shrugged. Before he replied I raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Can I take you up on that offer a few days ago for a drink?" He snapped his fingers and one of the thugs ran over quickly. He was big and burly, stubble growing out on his chin and a tattoo peeking from underneath his shirt collar. The red beanie on his head was pulled low over the ears. I found it funny how half of his guards were dressed in suits and the others looked like they were straight out of Blackgate.

"Yeah, Mr. Cobblepot?" He asked, his city accent thick.

"What's your poison, Doctor?" Cobblepot asked, curiously.

"Ah, gin and tonic?" I told him. He waved his fingers and the thug beside us rounded the bar and began to get the drink ready for me. I wasn't used to such high-class treatment and I felt slightly guilty for making the man pour my drink. Once he slid it over to me, though, I completely forgot about it as I took the first sip and felt my nerves relaxing.

Penguin seemed at just as much of a loss as me. "I don't know what to tell you, girl," He said then. "I don't know J. No one does. The whole world knows who he is but no one _knows _him. Maybe he doesn't even know himself."

"I'm not so sure about that. Anyone who is that relaxed and confident can't doubt himself."

"I just don't think he has any idea what he's doing next. There's three kinds of criminals in this world. The ones you can catch, the ones who plan so well they can't be caught, and the ones who don't plan at all."

"Are those the ones that can get caught or not?" I questioned.

He smiled. "Definitely the latter."

"He's in Arkham, though," I said with a raised eyebrow.

The Penguin laughed suddenly. "You think that's gonna hold him back? Arkham Asylum is like a vacation for him! He doesn't view it like he's being indicted, he views it like a temporary break. The Joker is not your average criminal. He's not your average anything."

"I wish I could get inside his head," I murmured, more to myself, than to Cobblepot.

"Mr. Cobblepot!" The thug yelled. We both turned out heads towards the man that had previously been smoking his cigarette on the balcony. "It's the Bat." He pointed a long arm towards the darkening sky. Rippling with the steadily moving clouds, the bat-signal was lighting up Gotham. "What do you think he's up to, tonight?"

"It doesn't concern us, boy! I've been off the Bat's priority list since last Spring," He told him. "Whatever it is, it's Batman's business, not ours." Curiosity had the best of me, though, and I watched the spotlight in the sky thoughtfully. I wondered who Batman was going after tonight. Would we have a new patient at Arkham tomorrow? Or was it more scum for Blackgate? You never knew in Gotham. The crazies seemed to flock here.

It took a few minutes for me to speak again. "Mr. Cobblepot, I'm going to head on out. I have a big day tomorrow." I took a final drink from my glass and put out my cigar on the ashtray.

"Good luck, Doctor," He told me. "Tell J I said 'ello!" He said with a laugh. His attitude towards the Joker had changed since the other night. He had been nervous when he first saw the card, but now that he knew the Joker had no intention of hurting him, they were comrades again. I was reluctant to use the word friends. Joker didn't have friends. He had allies, he had enemies, but he didn't care about anyone at all, maybe not even himself. It wasn't even that he didn't like himself, it was just that he didn't care whether he lived or died, as long as he went out in the way he wanted. I would talk to him again, no matter what Dr. Lawrence said.

**Another chapter successfully posted! (I've been binge writing and I'm already up to chapter 14. Be patient!) Gosh, I love Scarecrow action. Don't worry, Craniacs, he'll be in the story a lot more. His fun is just beginning. And I apologize for the lack of Joker tonight. *winces, but smiles as she looks at Joker's face on the poster on her wall* Review, my darling jesters. Faster updates when I know they're wanted. You guys make me smile so big that I feel like my face is about to rip into a Chelsea Grin. Anyway, notes on Chapter Five! I liked this chapter, because 1) I honestly enjoy writing about Cobblepot. He's an absolute sarcastic son of a bitch that half the time, I just want to punch in his smug little face, but I'm a sarcastic SOB sometimes, too, so I enjoy writing him. Plus, he's always drinking scotch and being classy and smoking cigars, which is what I aspire to be doing 24/7. Anyway, you can probably see how Harley's curiosity about the Joker is steadily climbing and slowly drifting from fear to interest, and I think this about the point where things really start getting interesting. I'll post again in the next couple days if you guys want, and Joker will return soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**chapter 6**

"You know you're making a mistake," I told Dr. Lawrence the next morning. I'd only been at Arkham for thirty minutes and I was already wanting to go home. The anger I felt bubbling in my veins was overpowering.

"Harleen, don't tell me what I know," He said, firmly. "It's irresponsible of us to let a resident doctor have therapy sessions with someone who obviously is this dangerous."

"He doesn't seem like he has intentions of hurting me. Besides, I'm the only one that can get him to talk!" I shouted, my voice raising. Lawrence frowned at me, eyebrows lowering, and I realized that screaming at my supervisor was probably not the wisest course of action. I exhaled loudly and straightened my shoulders, trying to regain some pride. "Just give me another shot."

He shook his head. "No. Final answer. We'll assign you another patient if you're needing more work, but this is off limits from now on. I'm not putting you in that sort of position. _Even _if you're okay with it." I grimaced but nodded. This conversation wasn't over, but I needed a moment to clear my head. I left his office without another word. The cafeteria was empty and I got myself another cup of coffee before heading up towards my office. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted another patient. It wasn't the fact that I wasn't busy enough, because I was always occupied, but I wanted to work with _the Joker. _It was him particularly, not just anyone. My curiosity was insatiable and I knew that asking other people or watching him on tape wasn't going to satisfy the unquenchable need for answers to the questions that I'd been steadily accumulating. I wanted to talk to him again, but I didn't know _how. _I wondered how exactly he'd escaped from his cell…

_Harley! Are you seriously considering breaking the Joker out of his cell just for a little chit chat? _I screamed at myself internally, grumbling at my subconscious. I was being crazy, and the irony was not lost on me. I headed back to my office, nursing my coffee. I finally got upstairs and set my things down before dramatically falling into my chair and sighing. My excitement about work was fading fast. I'd seen the glamorous side of psychiatry and now working with people like Blank didn't satisfy me. Maybe I could work my way up to someone like Pamela Isley… As intriguing as she was, it just wasn't the same. I rolled my head back towards the ceiling. What was that? I sat up straight and looked across the room, doing a double take. A small blue vase sat on the coffee table, filled with water and one single red rose.

I slowly got out of my chair and walked towards it, hesitantly pulling the flower from the glass and lifting it to my nose. Fresh. Beautiful. As I went to set it back down, I noticed a white piece of cardstock sitting under the vase. I slipped it out gently.

_You know where to find me, so why not come and visit? _

My heart pounded as I read the scrawled purple handwriting. It was J. Who else would it be? The fact that he'd obviously escaped his cell again and snuck back into my office made me crack a small smile. I placed the vase on my desk and slipped the note into my purse, careful not to bend it. My fingers drummed against the wooden desk as I pondered this. He wanted me to come visit him. I knew it would be virtually impossible to sneak into the Rogues Gallery at this time of day, when Arkham was crawling with guards. I'd have to wait for the night shift, the more relaxed of the employees. I knew I'd be safe to see him around then…

Safe! Harley, you idiot. I kept going back and forth between the want to see him and the knowledge that I was being a complete dumbass. I took another sniff of the rose and sighed. He was probably sitting in his cell, waiting for me to come around the corner. I gritted my teeth in frustration. I jumped when I heard a knock at my door, feeling as though I'd just been caught stealing. "Uh, yes?" I asked, loud enough to hear through the door. It opened quietly and Dr. Crane peeked his head in. My nerves got even more on edge.

"Morning, Doctor. I just came to make sure you were feeling better today. You had quite the accident the other day," He said, stepping into the office. I was thankful he didn't shut the door. I was anxious enough being alone with him. My nightmare flashed back into my mind as I looked at his eyes and I shook. "Harleen?" He asked, his eyebrows pulling low in concern.

"Oh, yes… I'm good. Thank you. Sean told me I passed out and you brought me home?" I questioned, stepping closer to my desk.

He smiled at me. "I did. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable. I just didn't know what else to do." Bullshit. I couldn't stop the thought form entering my head, even though I had no reason to distrust him other than a silly dream. My mouth went dry as I imagined his stitched face, his bleeding eyes, that blood splattered gray suit… I held back a gasp as I looked at his suit. It was _the _suit, the suit from my dream. Had he worn that suit another day? Why did I dream about it? I suddenly felt sick.

"No, it's fine, Dr. Crane, thank you. I'm actually quite busy, right now, though…" I muttered, turning away from him, unable to see his face anymore. I couldn't stop imaging the Scarecrow.

"Are you alright? You look pale," He said, and I heard him approaching me. I whipped around and pressed a hand out, signalling to stay back.

"I think I'm getting sick again, actually," I told him.

His eyes narrowed, his lips parting in question, but he didn't speak. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Let me know if I can help, then, Dr. Quinzel. I'll let you alone."

"Thank you, Crane," I replied. He left without another word and I sighed in relief as soon as he was gone. The dream was haunting me.

** "You're doing well,** then?" I asked, my voice monotonous. My interest in Timothy Blank's treatment had disappeared almost completely.

"Better," He replied. He was sitting on the couch across from me, rubbing his arms uncomfortably. In all the time me and Blank had been working together, and as much progress as we'd made, he'd never become comfortable with me. Of course, that wasn't a personal thing. He was incredibly introvertive. That's why his next comment startled me so much. "You don't seem yourself, Dr. Quinzel," He said.

I frowned, my eyebrows pulling up at the same time. "Oh?" I questioned. At the same time, the incredible urge to yawn flooded through me and I thanked God, hoping that was enough to convince him I was just tired. I didn't think I seemed different, but after all that's been happening lately, how could I not be on edge? "I've been having some late nights, recently." Even though I knew Blank was no more of a danger to me than say, Sean, it was still unwise to disclose anything personal to patients. I tried to keep it strictly business related.

"I'm sorry," He replied. I liked Timothy, as a human being. He was polite and didn't pry, like a lot of patients, and wasn't so quiet to the point where no progress could be made. He was just self-contained enough to the point where it appealed to me. Blank wasn't a bad patient. Sessions with him were never stressful, though they weren't terribly satisfying either. "Maybe once I leave Arkham, you won't be so stressed out with work."

"Timothy, believe me, you don't stress me out at all," I told him with a smile. He nodded once, gently. "So. What are your plans, post Arkham?" I asked him. Timothy had had a rough life before coming to the asylum. He was unable to keep a job, prone to his panic attacks and mania, and college was much too difficult. As a man in his late twenties with no immediate family for miles and miles, he ended up on the streets.

He shrugged one shoulder, slightly less of a jerk in it than usual. "Other than coming back for outpatient treatment?"

"Yes, other than that," I said.

He pursed his lips. "I don't know. I want to go back to school."

"What are you interested in going to school for? Gotham University has dozens of classes to choose from, if you're interested in going there."

"I don't have the money for that," He muttered. "But art. Definitely art. I want to paint."

"I've seen some of your work in your cell. You're very talented. I'm sure you could get a scholarship and some student loans." I was flicking my pen between my fingers, the ink blots dripping on my blank page. It was true, Timothy was wildly talented. His art was amazing, and had been since he'd shown up, but he'd never mentioned pursuing it.

"How would I ever pay them off?" He asked, seemingly stressed by the thought.

"Timothy, you know what we talked about. When you start feeling stressed?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm fine." He frowned. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

"I would love to say we could have this conversation another day, but we both know you're never going to want to confront it. Facing your problems - which is, in this case, the future - is the next step in your recovery. You know that once you get there, you'll be fine. We just have to get you to the point where you can make those decisions yourself," I told him simply. A few months back, I never would've been able to be so forward with him. The fact that he wasn't frightened out of his mind by the tone of my voice just showed how far he'd come. I felt a bit of pride at that. My phone suddenly beeped and I glanced at the clock. "Times up for today, Timothy. This week, let's work on planning for once you're out of here. In the REC room, whenever you have time, just make a list of things you'd like to accomplish once you're out of Arkham, big or small, and we'll start building towards those. Your release date is a month from yesterday," I note, glancing down at my clipboard. I grinned to myself, happy that Lawrence approved his release.

Timothy enthusiastically nodded. "Okay, Dr. Quinzel. Thank you." He was escorted out then by an orderly I didn't know. I stared at the couch he'd just been sitting on. It took Timothy just over a month to be able to have sessions in our office - four sessions to test how well he reacted with me. I wondered how long it would take before the Joker was allowed private sessions. I hated that I couldn't get my mind off of him. One person shouldn't have that much power over another. Especially when they'd only spoken twice! With that in mind, I reached up and gently stroked one of the petals of my rose. It was beautiful, just starting to bloom. Every thorn was in place. It didn't surprise me.

I absently poked one of the thorns with my fingertip, drawing it back as soon as the two touched. The pain was sharp and immediate but very temporary and as soon as I'd felt it, it disappeared. A tiny drop of blood was accumulating on the fleshy part of my finger. _Only a few more hours until the night shift, _The devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear.

_Don't do it, Harley, you're asking for trouble. You aren't supposed to encourage psychopaths! Didn't you go to school for this? _The angel demanded. I cringed, my nose twisting up in distaste at my thoughts. I knew I was being stupid by encouraging him at all, but the thought of this going unfinished… Of me not coming to see him, of the rose dying and us never speaking again… It made me almost angry. I glared down at the bloody tip of my finger, rubbing my thumb and forefinger together and spreading the red thin. I absently wondered if the Joker had red blood, too. He didn't seem like flesh and bones. He seemed immortal. The pale red of the spread out blood reminded me of his makeup. The red lipstick hastily applied on his broad grin, stretching out over his scars. I wondered what it felt like to touch those scars. The Joker was constantly licking his lips, constantly feeling the edges of his mouth, testing his scars, and I couldn't help but wonder what thoughts went through his mind as he did so. He was so fascinating.

Almost beautiful, in a way.

"Harley!" I shouted, slamming my fist onto my desk, rocking my belongings. The vase shifted and I reached out as fast as I could to keep it from falling overboard.

"Nice catch," Dr. Lawrence said from the doorway. I glanced up and realizing the awkward position I was holding - bent over my desk, stretched out and grasping the flower and vase in my fingers - I straightened up quickly. "And a pretty rose, too."

"I thought so," I replied.

"You look stressed," He says, his voice not particularly sensitive, but not rude, either. He was just stating a fact.

"I'm fine, actually," I said, but it ended with a sigh, that I immediately hated myself for.

"You're done with your work today, aren't you?" After a quick nod, he asked, "So why are you still here?"

I blinked, and grabbed an excuse out of my head quickly. "I needed a place to finish some paperwork. There's a lot of construction by my apartment right now. I figured I'd just get it done here, since it's quiet." It wasn't really a lie, I thought. A block over there was road construction, but I doubted it'd be loud enough to interrupt my work. I was patiently awaiting my chance to go see J. Lawrence raised an eyebrow, but seemed to accept my answer.

"Take a break for a bit. Go get some dinner, or something. You could use it."

The idea of grabbing something to eat wasn't very appealing, but I knew I could use some coffee - and not the shit they served in the Arkham cafeteria. Leaving for a bit to get my nerves under control would also buy me some time. I cracked a smile at Lawrence. "That's not a bad idea." He smiled at me, clapping a hand on the doorframe in a sense of goodbye and off he went.

**After being gone for about an** hour and a half (still longer than I could bare) I returned to the asylum. I liked Arkham a lot better at night. It was quiet, darker, of course, and it just seemed more… Peaceful. All the patients were settled down and sleeping, most of the staff had gone home, and it was perfect for those nights when you needed to get away and have somewhere to be _alone. _I dropped off my bag and coat in my office, only pausing to once again stroke a petal of the vibrant rose and adjust the thick curtains of my window. It had started storming outside on my way back from the asylum. I breathed in hard, butterflies of terror swarming my belly. A bit of liquid courage sounded nice right now. I knew that Lawrence had a bottle of Jack Daniels under his desk… I shook my head. I was already dazed enough, and I knew the second I went down to see J… Any alcohol in my system would not be to my benefit.

Was I really going to see him? I couldn't deny I was curious. He was an enigma that I would probably never understand, but that I was almost certain I would die trying. Why did he want me? What was interesting about me? I swallowed my questions until later, until I was with him, and turned, devoted to the door.

The breath was stolen from my lungs suddenly as I saw the dark silhouette of a lanky, tall figure standing by my door. I grabbed my chest. "You…" I whispered.

"Har_ley,_" His voice purred. "I was _beginning_ to think you weren't going to come down and, uh, _visit_…"

"How do you keep getting out of your cell?" My voice was husky and dry, frightened, but excited at the same time. I could fairly make out the loose waves of his hair falling around his head, his thin body leaning just slightly forward, as if waiting for something, or getting ready to strike.

"Is that _really _the question you've wanted to _ask_?" He started to walk forward slowly.

"Then what do you _want _from me?" I gasped.

He cocked his head. "I find you _interesting. _Is that a, uh," He smacked his lips. "A _crime?_" He giggled a little, a breathy chortle that sent chills up and down my spine.

"It's worrisome," I replied. His infatuation with me really was, and although I sort of liked it, it scared me out of my witts. He knew it too, and he absolutely loved it.

He rolled his dark eyes. "You psychiatrists think everything is worrisome, don't you?" He mused out loud. He stepped closer and I backed up, pinning my back completely against the wall. He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Sh, sh, sh, sh," He said, waving his hand. "I don't want to _hurt_ you!" He said, sounding almost shocked that I would think such a thing.

"Please just leave me alone," I replied.

"You know... it wasn't _easy _for me to get you this rose," He replied, looking at me from under hooded eyes. "I had to sneak in to Pammy's cell and snip it off her rose bush. You could hear her screaming all the way across the building," He giggled. "Not to mention the vase, and the card, and, uh, _getting it here. _Least you could do is show some manners and say _thank you._"

"I'm not going to thank you for sneaking out of your cell. Leaving me flowers is completely inappropriate." Suddenly, he gasped.

"Oh, no! I hope I don't get put on the _naughty _list," He said with a dark giggle. He skipped forward then, a little dancing approach until he was standing right above me, leaning down to look in my eyes. If he moved forward even an inch, our chests would be touching. I tried not to breathe, not wanting to get any closer to him. I could feel his body heat from here. "What are you _thinking?_" He asked, his voice breathy and hot, and I could feel it against my cheek as he whispered in my ear.

I swallowed. "I'm praying that you aren't going to use this situation to kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you, Harl," He cooed. "I only wanted to tell you goodbye."

**Oh. Shit. What ever could J be talking about? Hmmm... I guess we'll find out, won't we? (Yes, that ****_was _****a Jonathan Crane reference, and if you caught it, you just earned yourself some points from me.) Yes, this is only chapter 6, but I've actually already written all the way up to chapter 17. I'm dying to tell you guys everything because I have so many wonderful things coming up. I'm just letting you know: In the chapters and chapters to come, keep an eye out for little easter eggs. You'll catch a lot of Batman: Arkham Asylum, Arkham City references, as well as a lot more. I've been having so much fun with this. If you think you catch something, let me know! I want to see how you guys like my little hidden jokes. Thank you guys!**


	7. Chapter 7

**chapter 7**

"Goodbye?" I asked, confused.

He grinned then. "I've enjoyed my little stay here, but I… I really _must _be going." At that, he grabbed my arm and wrenched it behind my back, twirling me around so that my back was pressed against his chest. "And you, little Harlequin, are going to help me." His free hand covered my mouth and he somehow managed to get the door open while never releasing his grip on me. I struggled against the hold, but every move I made forced my arm up higher. I moaned in pain as it twisted and he _tsk_ed his tongue at me for trying to struggle. "I'm late, _I'm late, _for a very important _date,_" He sung happily. "Wait for _it_," He continued. Not five seconds after he purred that in my ear, the alarm started to blare. I cringed against the loud sirens. Red flashing lights filled the halls, casting an eerie sort of glow. I was panicking then. Who set off the alarm? Did someone realize the Joker was missing? He pushed me from behind as we walked, letting go of my mouth but still dragging me by my arm. I must have been walking to slow for his taste.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, my voice gaining strength as I realized he really didn't have any intention of hurting me.

"Down the rabbit hole, _my darling _Harley," He muttered, not looking at me. The Lewis Carroll quotes continued to throw me off. I would have expected this from Jervis Tetch, but J really didn't seem the kind… Suddenly, I understood. A man in a white coat walked around the corner, slowly, carefree, in no rush. As he turned in this direction, I saw it was Sean. Someone had tied a band around his head and there was a long white card sticking out. The numbers 10/6 were clearly printed on the card. I gasped. The Mad Hatter _did _have something to do with this. I didn't understand how he'd gotten free, too. The Joker led me down the stairwell and towards the Rogues Gallery, where I wasn't surprised to see every cell was opened. There was no one left in this stretch of hall, except for one man I didn't recognize, curled up on his cot and whimpering strange things. J pulled me along roughly, making me cringe as he yanked harder on my forearm. He led me to the guards station, where I could see one man lying unconscious on the floor, a puddle of blood beside his head. I didn't know where the rest of the orderlies were. The Joker was intent on his task. Never loosening his grip on me, he flung open the drawers of the desk beside us, grumbling things under his breath until he found what he was looking for.

"He didn't _disappoint,_" J sung, grabbing a long, sharp knife from the bottom drawer. My heart contracted. Was he going to use it on me? I was convinced he wasn't, but I knew that letting my guard down would easily get me killed. Of course, even if I was completely prepared for it, he could easily overpower me. He was very thin and tall, but his arms and torso were sinewy with muscle and his grip on my arm was practically unbreakable. He twirled the knife in one hand as he pulled me with him, towards the front of the asylum. I could hear screaming in the background, sirens, different ones against the blaring ones inside. It seemed as though it was a full-on breakout. The Joker hadn't just tried to escape himself - He'd let all hell rain down on Gotham in the process. I was begging God to make sure none of the inmates made it off the property.

"Just let me go, J! You can escape without me!" I said, trying to jerk my arm back, only resulting in what felt like an Indian burn on my forearm. I cringed at the pain.

"Shush," He growled. "You're my accomplice for the night."

"But J -"

"_Shush._" I resigned to shutting up for the time being.

The grounds of Arkham were chaos.

The road leading off Arkham Island and into the Narrows was barricaded by cop cars and a line of policemen with shields marching up the road. I noticed one or two cops with a 10/6 card in their hats, walking absentmindedly through the fighting. A large viney plant had burst out of the ground across the field and it's long green arms were grabbing people left and right, throwing some of them, and bringing others to the plant's master -Poison Ivy. I watched her as she pressed her lips to theirs and one by one their eyes turned a sickly shade of green and began to attack anyone that came close. My jaw was hanging open as I watched all of this. I noticed the Joker was watching too, a beautiful grin stretched across his face. He was in his element.

It was very obvious how much he'd missed it. He was only locked up for over a week, but the Joker was not a man to be caged. He closed his eyes in bliss as he tilted his head back, the November wind blowing his hair back and raising goosebumps on my arms. The rain falling in heavy sheets around us didn't help, plastering my hair to my face and my clothes to my body. "Feels good, doesn't it Harl?" He asked, loudly, over the sounds of gunfire and screaming.

"You're crazy," I said then, yanking once more on his arm.

He growled at me, his head snapping down to glare into my eyes. "No, I'm _not,_" He hissed. I flinched as another loud shot of a gun rang in my ears. A body not ten yards from me collapsed, knocked backwards by the force of the blow. It was a cop, one of the mindless ones, controlled by Tetch. My arm was yanked again, painfully rough and I knew it must have been dislocated. I cried out in pain but the Joker didn't notice or at least didn't care. He dragged me with him, towards the nearest person on the field and raised his knife. I screamed, trying to warn the victim, whoever they were, to turn around. They couldn't hear me. J flipped the victim around and I gasped as I came eye to eye with a hypnotized Timothy Blank. His eyes were green from Ivy's poison and he was mindlessly coming forward to attack us. Joker slashed his knife down, slicing the man's carotid artery in a single hit. Blood spurted out profusely, not just pouring, but spraying across our faces and the Joker began to laugh, a maniacal sound, one that was louder and happier than I'd ever heard. The sticky blood on my face kept me from opening my eyes and I used my arm to clear it off my face. I looked up at him to see a look of pure bliss on his face as he lifted an arm out, holding his knife. He tilted his head back and grinned at the sky, watching the dark clouds swirling above us.

I was disgusted by myself, but I couldn't help but think of how beautiful he looked in that moment. You could sense the freedom in the air, and his aura was much heavier than it had been in the asylum. He had just killed a man, my patient, and was covered in his blood, but I still couldn't stop watching him with awe. My eyes travelled across the field, and I spotted multiple familiar faces, most of them inmates, though I saw the Commissioner on the front lines. "Dr. C-a-_rane,_" The Joker growled. I looked up in surprise at the words and after looking at J with lowered eyebrows, I looked in front of us, and my stomach twisted at the sight.

The man from my dream - The Scarecrow. He was there, in front of us, his electric eyes shining in the lights of the asylum. The burlap mask was not as frightening as it had been in my nightmare, but it was still disturbing, and coupled with the suit… I wanted to throw up again as I realized it _was _Crane's suit, the one he had been wearing earlier. Scarecrow was Crane. I had been right in my suspicions. What did that mean though? Had I not really passed out at the memorial? Was that even a nightmare? I felt woozy.

Crane's head cocked to the other side, watching us. His voice came out distorted, gravelly. "It seems you have my test subject, clown." I shivered, and not from the rain. Me. He was talking about me! The three of us looked up simultaneously as a dark shadow flew across us. There were multiple other screams across the field at the same time. One in particular stuck out.

"_It's the Bat!" _

The Batman. He was here. I thought he had disappeared after Dent's death, but here he was. I couldn't tell if I felt relieved or frightened. "Let her go, Joker," A husky voice growled from behind us. Joker whirled us around and I was very paranoid about having Dr. Crane at my back. Batman looked frightening in the darkness, his cape soaked, his eyes burning with fury. I could understand why he struck so much fear into criminals, especially the ones who were insane.

"Oh, Bats, you aren't _jealous, _are you?" He asked, yanking me tighter to his side. I collapsed against his chest, my hand grasping his soaked jumpsuit. The position looked highly intimate, me clinging to his side, face buried against his chest, his arm around me. His knife was twirling in his other hand, and that thought snapped back to reality.

"She's innocent," He said. "Don't use her as one of your pawns."

"I don't need pawns," Joker growled, grabbing me by my hair. "Harley and I have a… _Connection._" He jerked my head back to look at him and he grinned at the sight - Me, terrified, clutching him, and splattered in blood. "But if it's a one on one fight you want!" He yelled over the chaos behind us, and flung me back behind him. I tripped in the mud, my heel knocking me off balance and I collapsed on the ground. After a moment of getting my bearings, I looked back up and saw the two circling each other like they were animals preparing to attack. Joker looked the part. He was feral, his back arched like a cat, holding the knife like it was another appendage. I must have been watching the fight for only about ten seconds before I was yanked back up from the ground by my hair. I kicked at my aggressor, trying to get a good angle to use my fists, when the Scarecrow's mask was in my face. With one hand he grasped my jaw tight, making sure I couldn't move while the other clasped my wrists. "Little Harleen, so confused, are we?" He asked, his voice a growl.

"Let me go, Jonathan!" I got out through gritted teeth. He just watched me through his mask before jerking me along towards the asylum once again.

"Don't struggle, Quinzel, it's useless," He told me, in a tone that sounded like helpful advice. "Embrace your fear."

"I'm not scared of you, Crane," I hissed.

He laughed then. "Oh? We'll see about _that_." I wasn't sure where he was taking me, but he dragged me through the first floor of the asylum until we reached the exit to the parking garage. I continued to struggle, but like he said, it was useless. I was just wasting precious energy. I couldn't hardly walk. My legs felt like jello, and my heels were sliding from the mud, and his grip was strong, even though he was painfully skinny. He was right, I was terrified in this moment. If I was remembering things correctly, the nightmare - or reality - I'd experienced with him was the most horrifying experience of my life. I could not go through that again. A large gray van was in the middle of the road, waiting with it's lights on and back door open. I supposed Crane had some connections and someone was here to pick him up. He shoved me in first and I groaned as my knees hit the hard floor, followed quickly by my head. He stepped in quickly, a skip in his step and he pulled the doors closed. Crane's fist knocked twice on the roof and I heard the ignition start. We were off.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my throat scratchy. "I don't understand."

"People are at their most raw when they are afraid, Quinzel. I like to see what's inside." He turned to look at me as he yanked his mask over his head. His black hair was messy and his eyes were wild, but I'd never seen a happier smile on his lips. How had we never seen the madness in his eyes before? Wasn't it there all along? Crane leant down next to me, on one knee and cocked his head, watching me curiously. "We have a bit of a drive, Harleen. You should get some rest." With that, his fist closed around my tangled hair and he lifted my head, only to slam it back down on the floor of the van. Black danced around my vision, and the last thing I was aware of, was Crane shouting a command to the man in the front and the squealing of tires as we made a sharp turn. I was out.

**Was it worth it? Oh, I'm squealing in delight just updating. I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say about the, uh, ****_turn _****of ****_events. _****Heh. As always, I love you, my clowns. **


	8. Chapter 8

**chapter 8**

I wasn't sure what time it was when I finally woke up. The night or hours or years that I had been asleep were terrible. The most horrifying images haunted me, leaving me far more exhausted than I should have already been. I tried not to think of the horrors I'd seen in my sleep, and instead focused on my current situation. I was lying on my side, curled into the fetal position on a scratchy couch that had the distinct smell of dog and cigarette smoke. My nose wrinkled in disgust and I tried to turn over, to get my nose out of the corner of the couch, which shot a deep, throbbing ache through my left shoulder. I hissed in pain as I grabbed my arm, but that hurt just as bad. While I used my right hand to rub my temples, I thought about what had happened. The memory of J roughly yanking me around and the feeling of my arm dislocating came back hard. No wonder it was hurting so bad. It was out of socket. A raw anger swept through my whole being as I remembered how he'd tossed me to Crane like that.

"You're up," A bitter, low voice said behind me. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I whirled around defensively. Crane was standing a few yards away, leaning against a wooden beam in the center of the barren room. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, sans coat, his dress shirt still tucked in but slightly rumpled. His hair was messy and wild and his glasses were perched precariously on his nose.

"Where are we, Crane?" I demanded, cradling my injured arm to my chest. He smiled, his pale lips twitching up at the corner ever so slightly.

"Trying to intimidate me after I just witnessed you writhing in pain for over twenty-four hours isn't the brightest thought you've ever had, Quinzel." I scowled at him, but he was right. It was funny, now that his secret identity was exposed, his true asshole nature was out and about. Before, when he'd… Secretly experimented on me, he'd been sweet, and somewhat familiar, although I'd always known something about his politeness was off. The sarcasm was more natural. Fit him better.

"How long have I been out?" I asked. I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him when he wasn't wearing his mask. He made me terribly uncomfortable, but his face didn't trigger the nightmares like his mask did. Right now, he was just Jonathan, a normal man, a coworker.

He extended his arm so his sleeve would roll back and checked the face of his watch. "It's around eight a.m right now. The 25th." I rubbed my neck. The breakout was on the 23rd. I frowned at my lap. I had been unconscious for a while now.

"Why are you being… Normal?" I asked, suspicious of him. The behavior he was showing was strange, not friendly but not hostile either. I wasn't sure what to expect from him.

He shrugged. "Quinzel, I have nothing against you. My studies are purely that. They have nothing to do with personal reasons. Of course, now that you know my identity, I can't really… Let you go, of course."

"So, what? You're going to keep me hostage? Kill me?"

He watched me with those intense blue eyes, narrowed as he observed me, scrutinizing me. "You're interesting. I'm not ready to give you up just yet." He uncrossed his arms as he began to pace around the small room, his hands moving freely with his thoughts. "I gave you the same dose both times that I've given you the toxin, yet your reactions were completely different. This, of course, is very interesting because it's only been a couple days."

"What toxin? What _reactions_?" I stood up from the couch, wobbling on my numb legs. I felt pins and needles as the blood began to flow back into my limbs.

"My fear toxin, what I use to make my patients hallucinate."

"Your patients? What, do you mean -" He stopped me with a look. I was shocked at this discovery. Had he been experimenting on Arkham's patients all along? I shuddered to think of him as a mad scientist. It seemed to movie-esque.

"Your reactions, however, are the funny part. The first night, it was all classic stuff, seeing things that would frighten anyone in their right mind," He murmured, and then glanced at me with an expression that made my stomach twist. "But yesterday…" I prompted him with my eyes. "All you could scream about was him."

I swallowed, instantly knowing who he was talking about. Allowing myself to remember my nightmares, I saw flashes of J, dead, dying, being cut up into tiny pieces. Sometimes it was images of him cutting me, slicing me apart, about to kill me. Other times it was just the memory of him throwing me to the ground.

"You have no right to look at me with eyes full of judgement, Harleen Quinzel. I've experimented on dozens of the lunatics in that asylum, but at least I haven't fallen for one," He spat.

"Fallen for one?" I demanded. "You're more mad than I thought."

"It might not be obvious to you, Doctor, but it's clear as day to me. I saw the way you were looking at him last night, as if he was a God. He'd just cut a man's throat and you were gazing at him like he was an Adonis. I'm not trying to pin something on you. I'm just stating the facts. That place drives people mad, not just me, not only you. Did anyone really think you could be so close with the deranged and not feel the effects yourself? Insanity isn't something you can defend yourself from. You've caught it. Just like me." The crazed look in his eyes made me step back, wary of him again. He was wrong of course. I didn't have feelings for the Joker. How could I? I was fascinated by him, of course, but who wouldn't be? He was the world's most captivating human being, and I was lucky enough to be speaking to him. How could I not be… Enthralled? I didn't have a _crush _on him. The idea made me scowl at Crane again.

"You're wrong, Jonathan. You just don't want to admit that you fell alone."

He smiled and the tension fled his shoulders. "We'll see, Quinzel."

It was silent for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Dropping the touchy subject of our sanity, I jumped to the next most prominent topic. "Do you have food?"

"Yes," He replied. He nodded his head to the left and started to walk and I followed behind slowly, still impaired with my heavy limbs. As we walked, he asked, "What happened to your shoulder?"

"The Joker happened," I grimaced, still holding my arm to my chest.

"Is it dislocated?"

"I think so." I was wary to tell him this. I still didn't trust the man in the slightest and wasn't one hundred percent sure that he wasn't going to spray me with his mysterious fear toxin any moment now or stomp on my shoulder for the hell of it. We reached a dingy kitchenette that had nothing more than an island counter, a stove, a sink and a small refrigerator. A few cabinet doors were ripped off their hinges and the only things I could see was a plastic bin of Folgers coffee and a few stained mugs in the sink. There were papers scattered across the island with scrawled, spidery handwriting. I shuddered when I saw a brown burlap sack on the counter, and knew it was his mask.

"Sit down," He said, pointing at the closest stool. I hesitantly sat down and leaned against the island on my good side while he went around to my left. "I'm going to put your shoulder back in place. It'll be painful."

"Do you know what you're doing?" I asked, panicking slightly. I knew nothing would hurt worse than what I was already feeling, but I was entirely reluctant to have his hands on me.

"Trust me. I'm a doctor." He took my arm by my wrist and bicep and I scrunched my eyes up as he lifted it ever so slightly. I whimpered.

"Crane, I swear to God -" My threat was cut off by a scream of pain as he jerked my arm roughly out and it fell back into place. "Mother_fucker_!"

"You're healed." His voice was so deeply facetious that I wanted to punch him smack in the jaw, but the pain I was feeling was too much at that moment. Jonathan circled the counter and opened the refrigerator, pulling out coffee creamer, and then moving to the cabinet beside him and pulling out a box of granola bars. He put the box on the island and slid it towards me as he busied himself with the coffee pot. I opened the granola bar in a haste, starved after not eating for almost two days. I didn't take my eyes off Crane as I ate though.

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I asked the question that had been on my mind since Joker came into my office last night. "Do you know what exactly happened last night?"

As he poured water into the back of the coffee maker, he replied without looking at me. "No, I don't. I came out of my office, about to leave for the night, when Jervis Tetch was all of a sudden in front of me. He was trying to subdue me, give me one of those… Mind control cards that he has. I was able to spray him with my fear gas before he could. After that, I dropped my things, donned my mask and went outside. It was chaos.

"I was only out there for a moment when I saw The Joker come out, you in tow. Even though it doesn't seem like it, I _did _save your life."

"You didn't save my life. He wasn't going to kill me," I justified him. I flinched at the look Crane gave me.

"Of course not." He flipped the on switch and soon the kitchen was full of the smell of brewing coffee grounds. It made my mouth water. "Anyways, I was able to gas a few of the more violent inmates, but I have no idea what happened after we left. I haven't watched the news. No television." He crossed his arms as he leant against the counter, watching me with wary eyes. I didn't understand why he was wary of _me. I _was the one in danger.

"So you don't know if J escaped?" I asked, putting two and two together. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Crane shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't all that interested." He waited for my response, which was a muted curse, before he continued. "The last thing I saw, though, was the _Batman _spitting up blood on the ground." One dark eyebrow raised.

"So he probably did get away," I murmured. My granola bar suddenly didn't seem tasteful anymore. I pushed it away absentmindedly. Hundreds of questions flowed through my mind. I obviously wanted to know where J was. If he'd made it off the asylum grounds, he could be anywhere by now. I cursed myself for missing so much time. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do after this. I couldn't very well go back to work, not after discovering Crane's alter ego. He would never let me. But I couldn't just quit, either, and disappear. I was itching to know where J was. I swallowed as the unbidden idea that I should find him popped into my tired, hallucinogenic mind.

"What are you thinking?" Crane asked, quietly, curiously.

"I have to find the Joker," I replied. "I have to. I know I'm not just going to sit at that goddamn asylum and wait for him to get caught again." I rubbed my temples, my head pounding. I was talking crazy. Maybe Crane was right, maybe… Maybe the asylum had rubbed off on me. I was contemplating going after a psychotic, killer clown whom I'd only known for over a week. "He organized a break out in a _week. _He obviously has something else up his sleeve."

"And your genius idea is to go after him." He didn't phrase it like a question. I glared at him. "You were a bright student, Harleen. I recommended you work at Arkham for a reason. I don't see why you're chasing after someone so… _Depraved._ Do you really think he'll treat you any different? He'll slaughter you."

"And you won't?" I demanded. I sighed, then, exhausted. "I don't need to take mental advice from someone who tortures people. You're as twisted as anyone. The Joker might be… Eccentric, but at least he does what he does for good reason."

"What good reason? What better a reason is there to do anything than science?"

"Be honest, Crane, have you ever seen a happier person?"

He stared at me for a minute before laughing out loud. Abruptly I felt self conscious and I lowered my eyebrows as I glared back at him. He raised his palms as if to show innocence. "Okay, Quinzel. Okay. I'm not trying to stop you."

"Good." I stood up then, and looked around the room for a door. I didn't know what my plan of action was, but I needed to get out of this place and away from Crane. After not a second of having my guard down, his fist was grabbing the collar of my shirt and jerking my up to look him in the eye. His jaw was strained tight, flexing in irritation and his eyes burned. I never would've thought that such an icy color could burn, and fester like that, but it did.

"I'll let you go. I'll let you go find your clown boyfriend. But we aren't friends, Harleen, remember that. If you tell _anyone_, then know that I will find you, and I make you suffer." He let go then, and I stepped back, disgruntled. I was breathing hard from the confrontation, but my face was hard and stony. He stepped back towards the counter. "The door is downstairs." He pointed towards a staircase towards our left and without further ado, I made my way to the steps, only giving him one parting glance before I descended. He was watching me with that familiar stare, one that I'd forgotten he'd had. I was struggling to see who was the Scarecrow and who was Crane. He was wrong about me. I wasn't crazy. Not like him.

**So much Crane! I do love him so much. Sorry for the lack of Joker in this chapter but he'll be back more than ever soon enough. I've published a few new things recently, and if you like this, you should really check them out. I'm going to go back to watching The Dark Knight now, and lusting over my clown. Thank you all!**


	9. Chapter 9

**chapter 9**

I was thankful to see when I got outside that we weren't terribly far from my apartment. The building we were holed up in was about six blocks away, which wasn't a very long walk at all. My clothes were still damp from the rain the other night, not allowed to dry from being scrunched up on my body for the past two days, and one of my heels was chipped, so I held my shoes as I walked home. I honestly wasn't sure what I was going to do when I got there. I was sure the cops would be looking for me. I wondered how much damage had affected Arkham. Who had been lost in the casualties? Was Sean okay? I wasn't even sure if Dr. Lawrence had been there last night. I was aching to watch the news, but I was also much too stressed to even think about returning to the asylum. I'd be bombarded with questions that I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't sure whether or not to tell anyone about Crane's secret identity.

I knew he would do good on his promise.

I didn't want to get any further on Crane's bad side than I already was.

The first thing I did when I got home was strip myself of the soaking clothes I'd donned and changed into something more comfortable. The next step was turning on the coffee pot. I'd left before the coffee had finished brewing at Crane's, and it had been haunting me ever since. After I had a mug filled, I left the kitchen and sat down on my couch, grabbing the remote and anxiously flipping to the local news station. I wasn't at all surprised that Arkham Asylum was printed in bold at the bottom of the screen, followed by the title: **Inmates Overthrow. **Footage of the breakout was played from what looked like a helicopter circling overhead. The barricade of cops were making their way towards Poison Ivy's giant plant. The vines were swinging haphazardly. I couldn't keep my eyes off the main door, trying to spot the Joker (and myself, or Crane) but no such luck. This must have been shot before we'd came out or just after we'd left. The anchorwoman of GCN began to speak, frightening me. I'd almost forgotten I was watching the news. "While most of the damage at Arkham Asylum is calming down, the authority and security are in question by Mayor Anthony Garcia. Commissioner Gordon has called into question the dependency we really have on Arkham. On another note, most of the patients have been re-apprehended; except for a total of three patients. Most of which are a part of the Intensive Treatment team. These include Ex-Doctor Pamela Isley, also known as Poison Ivy, Edward Nigma (The Riddler), and the unidentified terrorist we've come to know as the Joker." My stomach twisted just then as his face flashed on the screen. A picture of his mugshot from Arkham - his skin pale but free of his greasepaint, hair faded and donning his Arkham jumpsuit - right beside a security camera's shot of him in costume. It was a picture from the bank he'd robbed last month, him staring at the camera, eyes framed with dark black circles and a bright red smile covering his mouth and scars.

Where could he have _gone? _

**"****Hello?" I slurred against the** cordless phone.

"Harley? Is that you? Oh shit, I thought you were dead. Wow, that wasn't tasteful. Are you okay?" Sean's voice asked. He sounded breathless. I sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I stuttered.

"Uh, yeah. Shit. Sorry. Uh, it's been a rough couple of days."

"I'll say," He replied. "Lawrence has been trying to get ahold of you. Hell, everyone's been trying to get ahold of you. Where have you _been_?"

My eyes shot open. What could I say? What story could I fathom up? I was suddenly very angry with myself for sleeping instead of coming up with a valid alibi. "I got home last night. I passed out as soon as I got in the door. I must have left my cell phone at the asylum when the breakout happened."

"Where were you all yesterday, then? I've been worried." I smiled slightly from his concern. Sean was such a sweet guy.

"I was knocked out when the breakout happened. The Joker had me. I can't really remember much…" I tried to make my voice seem like I was confused, but I wasn't sure how well I was doing. "I was out for quite a well. I don't know what happened."

"Wow. What happened in the asylum, with Joker?" He asked. "Nevermind. I'm coming over. We'll go get coffee. Then Lawrence wants you to come in as soon as possible. The cops have a lot of questions for everyone. I've been interrogated nonstop since it happened."

I smiled as I pushed my hair out of my face and yawned loudly. "Coffee sounds really nice." I glanced at the time. It was around one p.m. and my last cup of coffee was three hours ago. The sleep made it wear off. Going to get an espresso sounded like a good way to get back into the swing of things, even though I knew nothing was ever going to be back to normal.

"Wonderful. I'll pick you up in thirty," He said, more cheerfully than anything else he'd said all day.

"See you then," I replied. I put the cordless phone back on it's charger and went into the bathroom to take a look at myself. I looked like absolute hell. Going without showering for two days after being pushed around in the rain and sleeping on a nasty sofa is not good for your appearance. I knew I wasn't going to get away with not taking a shower today.

Twenty-five minutes later I was showered and dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white button-up shirt and a black jacket. I felt strange not having my purse. Of course, all of my personal things were in my purse, including my cell phone, wallet (filled with all my money, and credit cards), and driver's license. I scrounged around the house for enough money for a cup of coffee, not wanting to make Sean drive me _and _buy my drink. A knock on the door caught my attention and I quickly went over and opened it to see Sean standing there, rubbing his neck. "Morning," He said.

"Hey," I said with a smile. "Come on in."

He followed me into the apartment, looking around all the while, before sitting down on the couch as I grabbed a pair of shoes from my closet and went about putting them on. "I'm sure you can guess that I have dozens of questions." He leant forward as if he was conspiring with me and I raised my eyebrow.

"Alright, Officer," I said, facetiously.

He rolled his eyes. "Are you okay? Like, positive?"

"I'm _fine. _Just a little shaken up is all." I stood up with purpose after slipping on the other heel.

"You look different. There's something about you." He said, rubbing his chin. The action almost made me laugh but I felt it was an appropriate move for the situation. "Maybe I'm just imagining things. Anyway, are you ready?"

"Mhm," I muttered. We wandered out to the car and Sean's curious stare was on me the entire time, making me paranoid. I knew my story didn't add very well, and he probably was very confused, but then again, so was I. Besides, I hadn't done anything wrong. I don't know why I was feeling _guilty. _ I tried to convince myself that the only reason I was trying to draw up an alibi was because of Crane's threat, but for some reason it just seemed like a lie to me. I knew it was because I wanted to find J so bad, though I didn't understand why I was feeling nervous now, when I hadn't even done anything.

The coffee shop we frequented on Fourth Street was a small cafe that was filled with writers and hippies and people that looked like they could use one less cup of coffee everyday. We fit in well. Once I had my coffee in hand and we were sitting down, Sean sighed loudly as if he was impatient. I glanced at him from under my lashes as I stirred in my creamer. "I'm dying here. What the _hell _happened the other night?" I gnawed on my lip.

Did I tell him the Joker came to my office? I didn't see why not. It wasn't like I let him out of his cell. It wasn't something that needed to be lied about. "The Joker showed up in my office. I had just gone for dinner and then came back to finish up some paperwork, and there he was." I shrugged. Sean was staring at me like my skin was melting off, but I relented and kept talking. "He told me he was just telling me goodbye, and then dragged me out of my office and towards the front. That's around the time the alarms started blaring." I remembered seeing him wandering the halls with the 10/6 card wrapped onto his head and I flinched. He caught the action and jumped on it.

"What? What was that reaction?" He asked.

"That was around the time I saw you."

His brow lowered in confusion. "Oh. When the Mad Hatter…?"

I nodded and he returned to sipping his coffee. He was obviously upset about that. Upset that he'd been overthrown by someone like Jervis Tetch. "He led me down to Intensive Treatment where someone had left a knife for him in the guard's station, and then we went towards the front door. When we got outside," I paused. I had almost told him about my shoulder, but that would give away Crane's involvement. Who else could have fixed it? "When we got outside, I was shocked. I saw hypnotized cops getting mowed down…" My voice trailed off, but in actuality, I was imagining the look of bliss in Joker's eyes as he watched his masterpiece unfold. My stomach clenched in some strange reaction to the image. "The Batman showed up, and J threw me to the ground. That's the last thing I remember." I bit my tongue when I realized I was using J's nickname freely with Sean, but he didn't seem fazed by it. He was too busy taking in the story I'd told.

"Jesus," He muttered, scratching the back of his head. I apprehensively awaited him to ask where I'd woken up and how I'd gotten home but he didn't. I knew the cops would definitely have some questions. I'd need to think up a story before I got to work. "Well, I guess we should head on out. Lawrence needs me at the asylum. We're trying to figure out which of the guards are corrupt."

I laughed at that. "All of them? You know the patients pay them off for things all the time. I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner."

"I know, I know," He said. He seemed tired, and I could see the stress in the dark circles under his eyes. By the time we got to Arkham, it was around three. There were multiple cop cars parked out front as well as a news van that was being corralled away from the main entrance. My nose wrinkled at the tenacity of the press. We parked and were able to get inside without too much of a hassle, but I knew the real struggle was inside these doors. What would I say? Would I tell them I woke up on the property somewhere? I was dragged away by a random man and then found myself later in the Narrows? I wondered if that would leave too many questions about Crane, especially because I doubted he'd be showing up to work anytime soon. Sean glanced at me as we walked through the halls with concern, so I gave him a tight-lipped smile and told him I was just nervous about talking to the cops.

"Quinzel! I was worried," Lawrence's voice said from down the hall. I smiled at him when I saw him. "You look… Come on, lets get you another cup of coffee." I frowned. I hadn't thought I'd looked that tired this morning. Maybe I hadn't covered the bags under my eyes very well. After I'd gotten another paper cup full, I was taken to one of Arkham's many conference rooms and sat down on one side of the table. Lawrence sat down two seats to the right of me. The table was covered in papers and a black briefcase. The door opened and both of our heads snapped up to see the cop that would be interrogating me.

"Miss Quinzel?" She asked. "I'm Detective Ramirez."

"Doctor, actually," I corrected, out of habit. "It's nice to meet you." I shook her outstretched hand and then she sat down across from me, setting her own cup of coffee down beside her. She drunk it black. Detective Ramirez was young, young to be a detective anyway, maybe in her late twenties, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail behind her head and caramel-colored skin. Her eyes were untrusting.

"I've been informed that you were at the asylum the night of the breakout. If you could recall the nights events for me, from start to finish, that would be great." She turned on her tape recorder and leaned back, patiently waiting for me to begin. I could tell Lawrence was watching me from the corner of my eye.

I crossed my legs before I started to talk. "I was working that day, and later in the evening Dr. Lawrence came by and suggested I get out of here for a bit - Go grab dinner, or the like. I took his advice and was gone for around an hour and a half before I came back to have some peace and quiet in my office to finish some paperwork. Around that time, our unidentified patient, the Joker came to my office." I could see Lawrence's eyes widen. This was news to him. Ramirez kept her face void of any emotion but I could see the surprise in her expression. "I was frightened, of course. I thought he'd came to hurt me, and when I voiced that, he told me that he'd only come to say goodbye. That he'd enjoyed his stay but that it was time to go. Once he dragged me out into the hallway, I saw that Dr. Sean Warren had one of Jervis Tetch's - another patient here, I apologize - mind control cards tied around his head. Around that time I knew we were in serious trouble.

"The Joker led me down to the Intensive Treatment area where all the cells were already open and empty. In the guard's station, someone had left him a knife to use. He dragged me out the front doors of the asylum and by then the grounds were chaos."

"So you saw the other patients? Did you see either of the other escaped convicts? Edward Nigma, or Pamela Isley?" Ramirez asked, leaning forward and cocking her head to the side.

I nodded. "I saw Ms. Isley, but I didn't see the Riddler anywhere."

"Please continue," She said as she jotted something down in a small flip-cover notebook.

I cleared my throat. "The Joker - without releasing his hold on me - went up to the first person he saw, who happened to be _my _patient, Timothy Blank… And he slit his throat right in front of me. Around that time, the Batman showed up, and in his distraction, the Joker threw me to the ground. I remember being approached, but I don't know by who or what. That's all I remember. I woke up yesterday near the end of the road leading into the Narrows and walked myself home."

Ramirez was frowning as she wrote down what I was saying. My throat was dry from nerves, but I kept my cool on the outside. After all, I was trained to stay calm no matter what. I was a psychiatrist in an asylum, after all. "I see. How long after the alarms sounded did all this happen?"

"The Joker showed up in my office a couple minutes before the alarm started. It was about another fifteen, twenty minutes before I passed out."

"Okay," She mused, scribbling more onto her paper. "Okay, Dr. Quinzel. Thank you. I think for now that's all we need. We might have another Officer come by with more questions another time. For today, that'll be all. Thank you, Doctor," She said as she stood. We shook hands and then she offered her hand to Dr. Lawrence. "Dr. Lawrence. You both have a good day."

Once the detective was out of the room, Lawrence turned in his swivel chair towards me, chin resting on his fist. "You were face to face with an unrestrained Joker, and you're still _alive?_" He asked.

I shrugged. "He didn't seem interested in hurting me. I think he just wanted me along for the hell of it."

"For the hell of it," He scoffed. "Well, I'll give you one thing, Quinzel. You have guts. I'm sure anyone else in this building would've shit themselves if the Joker had showed up in their office." I was looking at my lap then, and he said, "Are you sure you're alright, Harleen?"

"I'm fine, really. Thank you," I replied. "I'm going to get to work."

"Quinzel," He said, with almost a laugh in his voice. He stood as I did. "You aren't working today. You've just had a terrible past few days. Take a couple days off."

I cocked my head to the side and sighed. "I'm fine. I want to be here."

"Harleen, I'm not asking."

I frowned. He was putting me on suspension? "Come on, you can't be serious."

"Oh, I am. I'm not going to have you _working _after this. Not for a few days at least. Go home. Get some rest. Watch TV. I don't care. Just relax." Lawrence didn't look like he was interested in arguing with me. I rubbed my temple and nodded lazily.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I will."

"Thank you," He said, trying to show that it was for my own good. I made my way up to my office to find my purse. My office was a mess from the struggle with Joker the other night. I grabbed my cellphone out of my purse first thing and turned it on. I had fourteen missed calls. The majority of which were from Sean, some from Lawrence, one from the asylum's number, and a number that was unfamiliar to me. I went ahead and listened to the voicemails as I gathered the rest of my belongings. While I was listening to Sean's voice screaming in my ear, I frowned. Everything else was in order. My wallet was still in my bag, complete with all my cash and cards and ID. Nothing was out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I couldn't find my keys. I turned off my phone and threw it in my bag as I scrounged around through my papers. They had to be in here. I didn't take them anywhere, and the last time I saw them was before… As realization dawned on me, the creases on my face from confusion smoothed out and were replaced with a mix of irritation and amusement.

Forgetting my items for the time being, I sprinted down to the parking garage, unsurprised to see the parking spot I'd been in was empty. There were large black tire tracks leaving the spot and swerving out of the garage. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. I walked over to the parking spot, my heels clicking on the concrete, and I shook my head as I saw the ripped piece of paper taped to the wall right where my car had been.

_**Finders keepers, losers weepers. - J**_

**Two updates in 24 hours? I must really love you guys.**


	10. Chapter 10

**chapter 10**

I was able to call a cab to take me back to my apartment. I wasn't about to ask Sean to take me back home. Since J had stolen my keys, I had to get my landlord to unlock it for me, and they didn't seem very thrilled with being taken away from their television show. Once I was inside, I dropped all my things on the couch and collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The knowledge of not having a car again reminded me of being sixteen, unable to drive anywhere, and being captive in my own house. I didn't know where I'd go even if I did have my car. Safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't be driving, though, I got out a bottle of cheap wine from my refrigerator and a glass and sat myself down with my laptop on the couch. The TV was in the background, muted, and the it was the only light in the room except for the faint evening sunlight coming in through the blinds. I scavenged hopelessly on Yahoo! News and other news sites, but to no avail.

Joker hadn't revealed himself yet.

I was surprised somewhat, that he was being so patient with his return. Maybe he was working on some grand scheme, a "Welcome Home" to himself. My fingers mindlessly clicked on the keyboard, not knowing what to do. What did I _do_ with my free time before J came around?

Even though it had only been around two weeks, it seemed like that was forever ago. Nothing on TV seemed entertaining, and I had nothing new to read. I decided to practice some of my gymnastics, thinking it could be a good distraction. By the time I got into bed, my muscles were a comforting kind of sore and my tension headache had faded some. I was out like a light.

**Days passed in which there was** no news. Thanksgiving came and went. Lawrence wouldn't permit me back into work, and I spent the days practicing in my living room on mats. I was starting to get back into the routine and I was able to work out more than an hour without pulling something, which was a good sign. I started to wonder why I'd let myself slip out of it so much. On the third day of solitude, my cell phone started to ring, and when I didn't pick up, they called again. I groaned as I lifted myself from my backbend and jogged over to my cell phone, looking at the caller ID. I didn't recognize the phone number. "Hello?" I asked, putting the phone between my ear and shoulder as I filled my glass up with more water and took a long pull.

"Doctor," Cobblepot's voice said over the line. I wasn't expecting to hear from him and in my surprise, I choked a little on the water.

"Mr. Cobblepot, what can I do for you?" I asked. I didn't know why Oswald would be calling me, let alone at eight p.m on a Wednesday.

"Do you have any arrangements, tonight?" He asked.

I didn't even bother to think about it - I knew the answer off the top of my head. Of course not. "I'm absolutely free."

"Good. I need you to come down to the Iceberg Lounge. It's important."

I frowned, rubbing at the crease between my eyebrows where my headaches had been focusing lately. "I'll have to call a cab, but sure. Is an hour good for you?"

He replied immediately. "Don't worry about a cab. I'll send a car for you, Dr. Quinzel. And yes, an hour is fine. My driver will be there for you at 9 p.m."

He hung up then, and I realized he'd never asked for my address. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Of course Cobblepot would know. He has eyes and ears all over the city. I busied myself with taking a shower, getting dressed and grabbing my things and by nine I was outside and waiting. A sleek black car pulled up right in front of me. I raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it too much and ran out into the rain and opened the back door. "Ms. Quinzel?" The man in the front asked as I closed the door.

"Doctor," I replied, and then cursed at myself internally. I really needed to stop doing that. "Um… Do you have any idea what the Penguin wants me to come to the Lounge for?"

"Mr. Cobblepot only hires me to drive, ma'am," He said while not taking his eyes off the road. I watched him in the rearview mirror. He wore a classic three piece suit, but I could see the tattoos creeping up his neck, and the holes in his eyebrows where piercings used to be. I wondered silently where Penguin found the men he hired. While we drove, I looked out the window and watched the rain falling against the glass. I liked Gotham at this time of year. I loved rain, and I loved gray skies, and there was never a shortage here, especially because December was right around the corner. Glancing at my cell phone screen, I realized that December first was in fact, tomorrow.

When we pulled up to the Iceberg Lounge, the driver hopped out quickly and opened my door by the time I'd reached the handle. Flustered, I smiled, and thanked him before walking towards the doors. The host recognized me right away and his eyes widened. "Dr. Quinzel!" He said, hurriedly. "Mr. Cobblepot is expecting you. Please, show yourself upstairs."

"Thank you," I said with a smile. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive as I entered the elevator. As expected, a man in a suit with a headpiece was waiting and slid his keycard before pressing the button for the penthouse. The quiet gave me time to think. Obviously whatever was happening was very important. Why else would Cobblepot send someone to pick me up to bring me here? I couldn't help but think this was about J. He was the only common tie me and the Penguin had. When the elevator doors opened, I looked up and stepped back in shock.

A pistol was pointed straight in between my eyes. I squeaked in panic. What the hell? He _asked _me to come! "Doctor Harleen Quinzel," Cobblepot's voice said from somewhere I couldn't see. The man in the elevator behind me apparently had his own gun, as it found it's home right on my spine. He pushed me forward and I stumbled out into the penthouse, eyes wide and heart beating frantically. Looking around the room, I saw one other gun pointed at me, as well as Penguin's umbrella. I didn't want to think about what the umbrella could do to me.

"What the hell, Cobblepot?" I demanded.

"Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't do that if I was you. You don't get to ask the questions. You've got four guns on you. So for now, shut up and listen." He walked towards me and the other man stepped out of the way, letting Cobblepot take the stage. I gritted my teeth as I struggled to keep my mouth shut. "The Joker failed to be kept captive for long, as I'm sure you're _very_ aware of, and he's already managed to get his hands on a little something that now belongs to _me._"

"What -" I started, but his umbrella swung out and the tip of it was pushing against my throat, right under my jaw and angling my head up. I glared down at him and he clicked his tongue like he was disciplining a child.

"So listen up, girly. If the clown is doing what I think he's doing with this item, the entirety of Gotham is going to shit, and while I don't particularly care about the lives of the civilians, this is still my city, and I intend to be the only one to turn it on it's head. Alright? Here's the deal…" He turned around, dropping the umbrella from my throat, and I lifted a palm to rub the skin. I could already feel a bruise forming where it had dug into the muscle. I watched him cautiously as he walked towards the bar. The thugs had lowered their guns by now, and the one in the elevator had disappeared to another floor altogether. I didn't even understand why they had guns on me. What did they think I was going to do? Diagnose them to death? "You're gonna be my bargaining chip."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my eyebrows raising in disbelief. What did he think _that_ would accomplish? "You seriously think he'd give up this… Important thing… For me?"

As he poured himself a drink he waved a hand at me. "He obviously has some sort of attachment with you. That much is obvious. And we have nothing left to lose, so we're using our last resort. You." I glared at him, anger boiling in me, coupled by disbelief. The Joker didn't care about me, obviously. He just wanted to have a little fun during his stay in the asylum, and I provided that for him. "We'll see where it gets us." He waved his fingers in a 'come here' motion at the man behind me and with a nod, footsteps started to approach me. Before I could turn around, the butt of the man's gun was smacking me in the back of the head.

**Dammit, Cobblepot. Why you gotta go and ruin everything? Here I was starting to like you! Sorry that this chapter was a bit short, guys, but the next one definitely makes up for it in excitement. Please review, let me know your thoughts and feelings. Everything counts! **


	11. Chapter 11

**chapter 11**

It was sensory deprivation. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear and I couldn't speak. My fingers were tied behind my back with a zip tie and the bag over my head smelled like it had held a corpse before me. There was duct tape over my mouth and headphones covered my ears, playing much too loud classical music. I wriggled against my bindings. The floor underneath me was hard but covered in what felt like carpet. The slope behind me and the slight motion revealed to me that I was probably in the trunk of a car. Penguin. He didn't even have the decency to let me sit in the car? The urge to shove my fist down his throat was suddenly very strong.

I couldn't tell how long it was before the car finally slowed to a stop. I struggled harder against the zipties, only resulting in getting the bag off my head. It was still pitch black but at least it was progress. I waited impatiently for something to happen. The goddamn headphones kept me from hearing anything outside.

The light from outside blinded me when the trunk was finally opened and I glared at whoever it was. One of Penguin's thugs lifted me up and over his shoulder and I angrily squirmed to get out of his arms, trying to mutter profanity, though it came out as unintelligible moans. When he let me go, it wasn't with any grace. He dropped me on the concrete on my ass and I hit my tailbone hard on the pavement, making me groan. He yanked the headphones off my ears and I again attempted to communicate my bitterness. "Oh, Pengy, _this _is your deal?"

I froze in my struggling. That _voice. _He was here. I immediately tried to scoot around and once my eyes landed on him, I felt a dozen emotions swirl through me. One, was anger. Another was relief. Followed by fear, confusion, awe, and a slight thrill. He didn't look at me and I was desperate to catch his eye. Penguin stepped forward, shrugging, as he pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety, pointing it at my forehead. I tried to scream at him, but it didn't work. My fingers clawed at the zipties. I could swear I felt blood on my wrists from the plastic digging in too tight. "I just didn't think you'd want to watch your favorite therapist get her pretty little blonde brains splattered all over this parking lot. But if I thought wrong, go ahead and tell me, and I'll do us both a favor by offing her." The barrel pushed into my temple and I glared at J, trying to communicate that at this very moment, I hated him.

He appeared so unamused by Penguin's act. He was pacing back and forth leisurely, his purple coat flipping gently in the wind and his makeup cached on to perfection. He really was the Joker. He was so much more frightening in his makeup. "Cobble_pot, _have I ever told you how I got these _scars?_"

"I'm not in the mood, Joker. Just gimme the Titan." Titan? I wondered. What in the hell was that? It seemed like I'd heard that name before, but I didn't know how. And whatever it was, what did both of these men want with it? Joker giggled and I flinched.

"Fine, _fine, _you don't want to hear my, uh, _stories, _I get it!" He giggled again. "But can I at least show you a magic trick?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. I looked in disbelief between the two men. Penguin hadn't lifted the gun from my head.

"_Joker,_" Penguin growled.

"It's really simple, Pengy, just give me a moment." He dug around in his pocket for a minute before pulling out what looked like a syringe and squeezing it till a little liquid squirted out. Penguin grimaced and nodded at his men and two of them ran forward, trying to disarm Joker. I didn't see how one little syringe would hurt Cobblepot from so far away, but it was the Joker and I knew not to underestimate him. The men went to grab him and as Joker's thugs lifted their guns, he held up his hands as he hooted in laughter. The two men looked back and forth between each other but lowered their weapons. The fight happened too quick. The two men cornered him and he laughed as he ducked under the assault and jabbed the syringe first into one man's leg and then into the other man's side, making them both scream out in pain. He laughed maniacally and left the needle in the one man's abdomen and skipped away. I watched in horror as the two men began to shift.

The process was disgusting. The man on the left began to morph, shaking and vibrating with what looked like rage as his arms and legs started to ripple. The muscles bulged open and out of his skin, causing it to rip open to accumulate the new muscle tissue. Veins popped out, bones snapped under the pressure and the spines yanked through their back and through the tissue of their shirts. I couldn't stop staring.

The two grotesque monsters began growling and roaring demonically and Penguin cursed, yelling at his men to get in the cars and go. Realizing they were planning on leaving me, I immediately tried to scoot away, hoping neither of the large beasts would notice my small form moving towards the tall grass. Joker was laughing so hard that he was curled over at the waist, his lips spread in a ear-to-ear smile, stretching his scars in a funny way. The first monster charged towards the other, knocking it off balance and then they began to hit each other. It wasn't human, it was like watching two animals fight for a mate. One of the monsters smashed their giant, bloody fist on the concrete making the other fall over. Joker bounded away towards his car and in my panic, I tried to scream. He couldn't leave me here with these things!

The sound of tires squealing and laughter burst through my ears as the two giants were slamming into each other. They both forgot about the fight as they heard the loud car engine and began to slowly make their way towards the car. I looked towards the sound too, and my eyes widened as I saw the van speeding towards me. I squeezed my eyes closed as I realized they weren't planning on swerving, but the van slammed on the brakes not a foot in front of me. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. A hand was wrapping itself around my arm then, yanking me painfully onto my feet then and dragging me around the van as I heard one of the beasts scream again. I was once again shoved into the back of a van for the second time this week and I moaned as I hit the ground. Joker started to laugh as the van took off again and the doors slammed closed.

Once we had been driving for a few good minutes, his hooting died down and he walked over to me, rolling me onto my side and looking down at me with a grin. "_Har_ley," He purred. "You didn't have to get yourself kidnapped to see _little old me. _You _could've _just called."

I grunted against the duct tape and he grinned, but relented and his gloved fingers gripped the silver tape before yanking it off my lips. "Fuck!" I shouted. I was really starting to get tired of being pushed around, tied up and shot at. His hands wrapped themselves in my hair and he lifted me up to look at me in the eye.

"I knew I'd see you _sooner or later._" He let me go then and sat down on the bench against the wall, kicking his feet out and leaning his head back. I tried to roll myself up and fell back. It took a few tries but I finally regained my balance and got upright. I scooted back against the wall but didn't bother trying to stand. I stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few minutes until he finally met my gaze. "_Yes?_"

"You saved me," I replied.

"Mm," He replied, closing his eyes again and leaning back.

"And you also threw me to the Scarecrow," I said.

He smiled a little, the corners of his mouth turning up. His finger touched his nose and then flipped to me, as if congratulating me on knowing this. "Mhmm."

"You're such a _bastard,_" I stressed.

He opened one eye and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "This just means the score is settled, now. I sacrificed you, but I also _saved you. _So now

neither of us _owe each other _anything."

I narrowed my eyes but I couldn't bring myself to be mad at him. I hadn't expected anything more from him. I almost laughed at the insanity of the situation. "You _stole my car_!" I shouted, and then I did start to laugh. I was immediately worried about what this man was doing to my head, but I couldn't bring myself to stop laughing. He didn't laugh with me, but he had a small smile on his red lips as we drove. He wasn't sorry at all, and in all honesty that's how I preferred it. Once I'd settled down and was leaning against the inside of the van with my eyes closed, the Joker finally spoke again.

"You aren't _scared, _little harlequin?" He asked.

I waited for a minute, trying to figure out my response. Once I did, I shook my head. "No. I was going to come find you. But Penguin brought me to you first." My voice was quiet, but I was smiling a little as I spoke. He didn't respond and when I finally opened my eyes to look at him, he was right in front of me, glaring at me with those demonic eyes. My eyes shot open as his hands hit the wall on either side of my face.

"What did you expect to _gain _by coming to _find me, _Doc_-tor?_" He hissed in my face. His breath smelled of strong coffee. "Gonna try to cure me even out _here?_" He threw his arms out wide and that's when I noticed the knife in his hand. Fear lanced through my chest. He chuckled when he saw my reaction and pressed the knife blade into my throat. "Hm, Harl?"

"I wanted to find you because…" I frowned. I didn't really know why I wanted to find him. I didn't necessarily miss him, but I couldn't pinpoint any other reason. "I knew nothing was going to be the same since you came. And I don't want to go back to how it was before." He stared into my eyes for a minute, or glared, and then the knife blade started to dig slightly into my skin. I flinched but didn't pull back. I wanted to prove that I trusted him, that I was serious about this. The cut was shallow, anyway, something like a papercut, but it stung.

He took the knife away from the cut and then his thumb wiped over the small line, smearing the warm blood across my skin. I watched his face the whole time. "So you… _Like _having me around?" He pondered. "You don't want to be without me? Harley Quinn?"

"You've made me realize that I wasn't happy before," I replied quietly, intimidated under his stare and the feeling of his glove sliding across my stinging cut.

"And you're the happiest guy I know. I thought maybe you could help me out." What was I saying? Did I want to stay with him? Be one of his gang? He called me his Harley Quinn. I couldn't help but feel like that was an invitation.

His gloved hand ran up to my mouth and his thumb slid across my skin in a half moon on either cheek, staining me with my blood. "I'm _sure _I can help with _that._"

**I got so many supportive wonderful comments that made me feel absolutely elated and so I just had to update again! You guys are the absolute best. What did I say, by the way? I promised Joker, and I didn't disappoint! (At least I hope not.) Anyway, as you can guess, things are about to get crazy. We've got another ten chapters to go, and an epilogue, all filled with our wonderful clowns. I love you all!**


	12. Chapter 12

**chapter 12**

The Joker was shacked up in an old art studio. The loft above was home to a single room which Joker had of course laid claim to. The downstairs was right under his view and was where his henchman spent most of their days. There was a small kitchen in one corner, an old couch and a rickety table and chairs, but other than that the space was bare. The walls were graffitied, at first with what I was guessing was once beautiful artwork, but was now covered with profanity, vulgar sentences and too many _HA_'s to count.

Joker stomped into the studio with me behind him and his two goons behind me, making me paranoid. I had my shoulders up defensively. The zip ties were still cutting into my wrists, though, and I was nervous that in my vulnerable position one of his men would take advantage of the situation. Or even him. I still didn't trust him. He obviously didn't trust me, either, or at least my reasons. He'd blindfolded me the entire way here so I couldn't look out the window in the back of the van and spun me around just for the hell of it, but I really wasn't that interested in where we were going. He'd only ripped off the blindfold when we'd entered his domain. "Make yourself at _home,_" He mused as he gestured outlandishly at the place with his gloved hand. Three other men were in the room and paused in the middle of their card game when they saw me. I narrowed my eyes, but knew I looked anything but intimidating. The other two thugs who were donned in clown masks, immediately stripped them off and threw them down on the couch before walking over to the other henchmen. I took in my new surroundings with curiosity.

Not trusting these guys, I made my way to the staircase and worked to get up all the steps without falling over. Not having use of my hands was starting to get old really quick. J had left the door cracked and I figured that meant he didn't care if I came in or not, so I pushed it open with my shoulder and then peaked my head in. His coat was lying on the bed but I didn't see him anywhere. I stepped in and jumped back in shock when I realized I'd stepped on a pair of chattering teeth and somehow set it off. My eyebrows lowered but I smiled. Only him.

There was another set of double doors to my right, on the other side of the twin sized bed and the light was on. I could see two shadows through the crack in the bottom that I assumed were his legs. Water was running in the bathroom. I looked around his room in curiosity but was careful not to touch anything. When the door opened, I was startled and glanced up at J with an expression like I'd just been caught doing something I shouldn't have.

"Welcome to my _Ha-Hacienda,_" He purred, wiping his greasepaint-stained hands on his pants.

"I like it," I muttered. Sure, it didn't smell wonderful, and the window was spraypainted with black paint to keep out the light and there were clothes all over the floor and a shattered mug or two, but I liked it. It was very J, and I liked that. The bed was on the floor, slightly out of line and in red paint above it, he'd written **I HAVE ONE RULE **in messy handwriting. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I ignored it and continued around the room. I looked back at him then and saw he was watching me with hooded eyes, looking at my reactions. "What's your one rule?"

His mouth twitched. "Oh, it isn't _my rule._ I think the only way to live in this world is _without _rules."

"Then what does that mean?"

"You ask a lot of questions, girl," He grumbled and then started to walk towards me. I held my ground, though I was anxious to back up. I wanted to prove that I was serious about this. He circled me a few times before stopping behind me and leaning down to whisper in my ear. "It's _his _rule," He growled quietly. I felt the snap of the plastic being cut from around my wrists and I pulled them around to my chest, rubbing the pain away. I automatically knew he was talking about. It was the Batman. No one else would make an impression greater than the Batman on J. I wondered what the Batman's one rule was. J left me then, and walked down to the kitchen and I looked over the loft to see where he went. I decided not to follow him. Instead, I sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around the room. I kicked my high heels off and then stretched my legs out. After a minute of sitting and regaining some energy, I ventured into the bathroom to check that out, too. The sink was wide with a large counter and the shower was glass, but _someone _had ripped the door off it's hinges. I smirked slightly at that. It felt like getting to know him just by looking around his room. I wondered how long he'd been operating here. I looked up when I heard his voice shouting at his men. "Get some sleep, _boys! _Tomorrow we're picking up the rest of the Titan," He growled. His voice was suddenly much darker. His men were murmuring in response and I wandered over to lean over the railing and see what was going on. He flashed a wicked grin at the group and said, "And _another thing…_" Without even glancing up, he swung a hand up to point at me and my eyes widened in surprise. "_This, _dear boys, is _Harley. _She'll be joining us for the time being." I tried to hide the unpleasant expression on my face that I got when he said 'time being.'

The group of henchmen looked up at me with surprise on their faces, obviously expecting me to be some sort of hostage, versus a part of their crew. "_Don't touch,_" Joker hissed, and then turned around, stomping his way jerkily back up the steps. It was another moment before the gang began to talk quietly among themselves. I heard my name once or twice and chose to ignore it, turning around and facing J. "You'll be coming with us," He said. "So, sleep."

"Where?" I asked, which got a look from J.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he licked his lips. "The _bed,_ dollface." I blinked once at the generosity and climbed back onto the mattress, taking off my jacket and letting my tangled hair down. I pulled the heavy black comforter over me and laid on my side for a few minutes, trying not to think.

Half asleep, I was awoken again to a pitch black room and the dipping of someone climbing into bed. I looked over to see J laying next to me, facing the opposite way on his side, wrapped up in the blanket as well. My lips twitched into a small smile and I laid my head back down, returning to an easy sleep.

**"****_Get up, _****you ****_ingrates!_****" ****The Joker shouted at** the crack of dawn the next morning. I was tempted to pull the blankets over my head and defy him, but I wasn't that stupid. With a grunt, I flung the blankets off of me and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I looked around, disoriented and saw J jerkily walking into the room. Something was off about him, but I couldn't figure out what it was. As soon as he stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a small tube of red, I realized he hadn't put on his red paint. His smile was bare and his face looked ghoulish in a completely different way.

"Morning," I groaned.

"Good morning, sun_shine,_" He hissed but without any menace. I wandered into the bathroom and stood beside him as I looked in the mirror. His height compared to mine was ridiculous and I almost giggled. "Laughing this early? _Hm, _maybe spending time with me _is, _uh, _good _for you." He watched me out of the corner of his eye. I smiled at him.

"Please tell me you have coffee," I said with a cringe.

He grunted and nodded once and then said, "Make enough for _two_." I nodded, still sleepy, and made my way down the steps towards the kitchen. The henchmen were all rousing and having just as much trouble as I was, apparently. When they saw me walk down, I could feel the stares stabbing into me, but I ignored them and kept my chin up, pretending that they didn't bother me. After scavenging for coffee for a few minutes, I gave up and turned around, scanning the room. A skinnier clown was sitting in the corner closest to me, rubbing his temples and looking less threatening than the others.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the coffee in this place is, would you?" I asked. He paused and then looked up, awkwardly.

"Me?" He asked. I nodded, raising my eyebrows. The quiet shuffling in the room had faded out to absolutely nothing and I realized everyone was staring at us. He flinched, and I frowned in return. He was scared of me? Suddenly, another voice spoke up from across the room.

"Barry doesn't like to talk to people he doesn't know." I turned around to see a tall guy with broad shoulders and tattoos going down from his cheek and across the rest of his expanse of skin. "And the coffee is in the freezer."

I cocked my head to the side, but didn't question Tattoo Man and walked over to the freezer, pulling it open cautiously. Surprisingly, there was a tub of generic coffee grounds sitting alone in the freezer. "Thanks," I muttered as I pulled the grounds out, a small smile on my lips. I grabbed a mug from the growing pile in the sink and rinsed it out as well as I could before filling up the coffee pot with water and cold grounds. I opened the refrigerator and found that the only contents were a gallon of milk, a half empty box of poptarts (also out of place), and a carton of Half & Half.

J came down the steps in a rush and came straight over to me, hopping up on the counter and leaning forward. "Is it _ready _yet?" He asked.

"Does it look ready?" I replied. I felt multiple pairs of eyes on me. I looked over and saw a few of the guys were staring at me with bug eyes. I guessed I was probably one of the only few people who ever dared be sarcastic with the Joker. J's lips twitched like a smile and he looked over at his men.

"Stop _clowning around. _We have work to do." Barry, the frightened one at the table, immediately flipped his clown mask down over his face and stood up loudly, rushing out of the room. I wondered what exactly it was that they were doing. "You're going to, uh, need some new _clothes._" I looked up and noticed J giving me a once over. I looked down at myself. He was right. I was dressed in a dress shirt, pencil skirt and my feet were bare. "There's stuff on the floor," He grumbled, sliding off the counter as he noticed the coffee coming to a stop. He lifted the pot, then glanced down at my mug and hesitantly poured some in before walking away with the entire pot. I watched him wander around the corner while taking a drink straight from the pot and I laughed. His antics were… Refreshing. I hurriedly poured some Half & Half into my mug and then rushed back upstairs to find something to wear.

I kicked around clothes until I found what looked to be a pair of baggy black pants, which I could never see J wearing. I yanked those on and then took a belt that I found wrapped around a lamp and looped it around me as tight as I could. Next was to find a shirt. I'd already discarded my shirt and was busy picking through the options when I heard J's voice behind me. "You make better coffee than the rest of these, uh, _loons._" He licked his lips as he wandered in, still drinking out of the coffee pot. Steam was still rising from the drink but he didn't seem to notice. I grabbed a random article of clothing off the ground and lifted it to my chest, looking at him in surprise. He didn't seem to notice my state of undress, or else just didn't give a shit because he didn't look twice. Frowning at him for being so intrusive (Funny, because I was the one digging around in his clothes), I yanked an orange muscle shirt on and tied it behind me with a hair band, and slipped on my jacket from yesterday, which thankfully was warm and black, and made me look slightly less ridiculous. Next, I found some black boots in the corner that were definitely three sizes too big and stuffed the toes with some of J's socks. "You're ready to go?" He questioned. He sat the coffee pot down on the bathroom counter and then walked up towards me, quickly. His stride was long and I blinked at him in surprise. He was already standing over me. "You look _better _in my clothes. Those little business skirts and high heels just drive a man _crazy,_" He ranted. With his gloved hand, he grabbed mine and pulled me along with him towards the stairs. He wasn't being as rough as he was when the breakout was happening, and his fingers were actually laced with mine instead of jerking me along.

"We're moving out, _boys. _Who wants to _drive?_" He asked. The door in the back of the building was wide open and I saw the large van we'd rode in yesterday. Almost all of the guys raised their hands anxiously. I could guess why. "Such en_thusiasm. _Hm," He murmured. He started pointing at them in a random order with no consistency. "Eenie, _meenie, _minie, _moe,_" He sung. "You." He hadn't even pointed at the clown in the far corner, and you could see the surprise on his face, but then his eagerness as he bounded towards the driver's seat. Two other clowns jumped in the front beside him, and Joker hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the other guys. I hadn't noticed the other car. This one was a classic mini-van, and I found it somewhat hilarious to see the clown men driving what looked to be a soccer mom's car. Joker snapped me back to reality by tugging on my hand. "After _you,_" He said, with a coupling of batted eyelashes. I hopped into the back of the van easily and sat down on the bench casually and he followed behind, slamming the doors closed.

Once we were safely on the road, I dared to ask, "What exactly is it that we're doing, today?"

"Harley, Harley, _Harley,_" He chanted. "Some things are for me to know and you to not worry your pretty little head off about."

"Yes, Mr. J," I replied, in a teasing manner, but shut up about it anyway.

"Hm, I thought we'd moved _past _these little formalities. But I must admit I _like _the sound of that. You know," He muttered, "When we aren't in _therapy_ and I'm not chained down." I smiled slightly. He grinned back at me, baring his teeth. They were stained terribly, from coffee or cigarettes or maybe both. After seeing his coffee habits, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the cause. The rest of the ride went by in silence, except for J's random whistling patterns. He'd sing for a few minutes and then stop and then the whistling would begin again. By the end of the ride, I was convinced he wasn't even whistling a real song. When we finally jerked to a stop, he tossed me a black beanie and a clown mask, and without being told, I put my hair up and then slipped the grinning clown mask over my face. I saw him licking his scars through the eyeholes and then the blinding light of outside once the door opened.

"We're here, boss," One of the men said, and Joker grunted, hopping down from the van. I followed, receiving a few stares from the clowns, though I couldn't be certain what facial expression they held. The Joker grabbed a large black gun from the man to his left and then another one, shoving it into my hands. I frowned as I looked down at it. I'd never held a gun before. Let alone, I'd never needed to. My adrenaline was pumping. _What did you expect, Harley? You're shacking up with the Joker. Of course you're going to handle a weapon now and again. _I just worried about why I needed it today.

J started to lead the group around the building and I followed along, looking like part of the group, except for my size. I was tiny compared to most of the men, and I didn't hold my gun as confidently as I wished I could. My eyebrows raised in curiosity when I realized this was the old subway station just outside of Gotham. It had been replaced a couple years ago, but no one had ever bothered to tear it down. It really was a perfect place to have things hidden away.

Two of the men set up a perimeter by climbing up on the roof, and the other five of us went about going into the station. It smelled like rotten things inside, and there was garbage covering the floor. We shifted through it quickly enough and then J hopped over a barricade and started to descend deeper into the station and towards the train tracks. The only sounds in the echoey cave were our footsteps and the subtle dripping of water from who knows where. "There's _six _containers down here," Joker hissed. "The first three are on this level, and the next three are, _uh, _further underground. You _two," _He muttered to the ones closest to me. "Go with Harl. _Don't get any ideas. _You get the lower three. Me and _Curly, _here, will get the ones _topside._" The two clowns next to me were hesitant to take me with them, either because of J's threat, or because they didn't want the responsibility.

I narrowed my eyes at J. I wasn't looking forward to working with his two goons alone. I only hoped they trusted their boss enough not to mess with me. As we walked past, Joker grabbed my arm roughly, jerking me towards him and I looked up into his painted eyes with confusion.

"Don't be afraid to, uh, _protect _yourself. If it comes down to _it…_ I'm in shouting distance." I nodded at him and he stared into my eyes for a couple more moments before letting me go. I took a deep breath as I started to follow the other clowns. The smile on my face wouldn't disappear. He was looking out for me.

The subway station was much larger than I thought. It went down many stories, opening up in sections over areas of water. Vines were growing up the walls, the vegetation taking over once again. The ladders we used were rickety and the only consolation I had to keep going was that I wanted to prove myself to J. The two clowns were mostly silent the entire time, except for the occasional muttered conversation and laugh. After a while of walking on the tracks, one of the clowns finally spoke up. "So, what, are you the bosses girlfriend or somethin'?" He asked with a slight laugh. I flushed under my mask even though it was far from the truth.

"Just a friend," I replied. They both looked at me and the expressions on their masks made me grin as I imagined that those were their reactions to that statement.

"Friend? Have you met this guy?" The other clown asked.

"Fortunately," I said, kicking a rock in front of me. One of them snorted.

One of them muttered, "I didn't even know the Joker _had _those feelings."

The conversation ended there for the time being and I preferred it that way. I was honestly just as confused as to what me and J were as them. I didn't know how he felt about me and I wasn't terribly sure what I felt about him, but I was starting to put two and two together. I knew my attraction to him was more than just the simple, 'He interests me.' I was starting to find him attractive in his own way, and his attention made me feel so alive. I'd only been a part of his gang for a day now, and I'd never felt so excited in my life. I wanted him. That much was obvious.

We reached the first container in record time. The metal cannister was as tall as me and just as wide, with the word **TITAN **stamped in red on the front. I frowned as I looked at the cannister. How exactly were we expected to get that back up to the top? The two clowns started to tip the cannister forward and they caught it easily, before lifting it up onto their shoulders. The man in the back grunted and exhaled harshly. "Can I do something?" I asked, feeling absolutely useless. They looked at me for a solid minute before the first one spoke.

"She's so eager. Yeah, kid. In my backpack, there's a long ass garden hose. Get that out for me." I nodded and dropped to one knee as I yanked the zipper of the pack open. The green hose was coiled in a tight loop and I shrugged it over my shoulder. The clowns started to move, carrying the Titan container towards the ladder we'd just come down. "Go up there with the hose, and at the end of the room, there's a bigger hose leading outside. You'll see it coming out through a hole in the wall." I didn't question his instruction and instead pulled myself up the ladder and busied myself with finding this other hose. After having instructions shouted to me, I had both of the hoses connected and then was lowering the other end of the garden hose back down to the guys. The clown with the smile on his mask opened up a nozzle on the top and then connected that end of the hose into that. Just a moment later, the sickly green liquid began to flow up the hose and towards the other end. A few drops oozed out of the top of the container and both men jumped back, shouting about how it'll fuck you up if it even touches your skin.

My jaw dropped as I realized what the Titan was. How did I not put it together? I remembered those two men that worked for Penguin yesterday, the ones who grew into grotesque sizes and whose bones snapped to make room for their muscle. This was what Joker had infected them with. I swallowed. What exactly was he planning to do with this much Titan?

Once the first can was empty we moved on. Now that I was aware of the plan, emptying the other containers was easy. We made our way up to the top where we saw J and the other clown already heading back up the steps to the Station. When the Joker saw me, he stopped, letting the other men pass in front of us. They shot me glances as they made their way above ground. J grabbed my shoulders and looked down at me with those black eyes. "No trouble, I _assume?_" He purred.

I shook my head. "None at all. They're nice," I added. He grumbled something under his breath and then wrapped his arm possessively around my waist, his fingers digging into my hip. We walked like that up to the station and back outside towards the van. The second car that left the studio this morning was parked up against a wall, a large plastic hose leading into a small, gravelly hole in the side of the building. Another cannister was in the back of the van where the two back rows of seats had been removed to make way. All six of the Titan supplies were being emptied into there. Joker hit the top of the car twice as we walked past, maybe a signal of 'Job well done!' or maybe just because he wanted to. With J you could never tell.

When we finally got inside our own van and the doors were closed, he tore the clown mask off my face and then pulled off the beanie, making my static-y hair fall around my shoulders. He _hmph_ed and then nodded before sitting down, now looking content. I smiled at his action and then sat down next to him but a couple feet away. With a look of confusion and maybe distaste, he watched me as I slid my sleeves up and rubbed my neck. After a moment under his scrutiny, I looked up. "Yes?"

"Come _here,_" He said in a deep voice, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. With a small smile and a lowered brow, I scooted closer, but was also being cautious. He wasn't being violent, but I knew enough about him to know that his mood swings were wild. His gloved hand landed on my thigh and he pulled me roughly down the bench until I was sitting directly next to him. He left his hand on my thigh, cupping it in his palm. My skin seemed extremely hot where he was touching me, and I couldn't decide if it was the temperature of his skin, or if I was just overly excited. I knew it was crazy of me to be having these thoughts about him, but I didn't care, and I shoved that small piece of sanity back in my head and tried to just enjoy the moment.

I didn't think J was the kind of man to feel lust. He didn't seem controlled by fleshly desires, and his touching me was probably more of a claim, a statement of possession than anything else. Still... I couldn't help but let myself pretend.

**So much J. I love him. I'm on a role here, guys. I'm updating left and right. I hope you guys like it! Let me know your thoughts and feelings. ;) **


	13. Chapter 13

**chapter 13**

When we finally got back to the studio, J went about making plans with his men and taking care of business and I, knowing I didn't really have a part in most of this, excused myself to go upstairs. I was torn between the urge to take a shower and the coupling, depressing truth that I had no other clothes. With a groan of irritation (I really needed to go to the apartment and get a few changes of clothes) I went into the bathroom and stripped myself of the baggy clothes, folding them and putting them in a small pile by the door, and then hanging my jacket on the lone hook. I turned the shower up to as hot as I could stand and then hopped in. So far, this was the most normal thing I'd done in what seemed like months, though I knew it was only days. Still, it was nice doing something average like showering and not being kidnapped, almost killed by monsters or crawling through old subway stations. I laughed once at the craziness of the situation.

Of course, what had I expected when I'd decided I wanted to find J? I let the water pour over my face as I sighed. In all honesty, this was the least stressed I'd been in quite a while. I didn't have Crane to worry about, I didn't have to think about anyone else except for myself and J. It was _simple _with the Joker. _He _was complicated. He made _life _easy.

After I'd spent a good amount of time in the shower, I dragged my body back out and into the cold air of the bathroom, shivering. There was a single towel that had been thrown on the floor, and I hesitantly picked it up. Satisfied with it's state of cleanliness, I wiped myself off and then wrapped it around my body, set on going to find something new to wear for the time being. When I opened the door, I saw that the bedroom door was shut across from me and there was a neat stack of clothing waiting for me on the mattress where I'd slept last night. I grinned to myself. He really _could _be a sweetheart. When he wanted to be.

**Later that night, I sat alone** in the kitchen enjoying a dinner of cold pumpkin pie flavored poptarts and a mug of milk. The clowns weren't bothering me, or staring at me anymore, though occasionally I noticed them looking at me strangely for a minute or two. The two guys that I'd helped today in the station would nod at me when we met eye contact, and I took that as a good sign. By this point, I'd learned a few of their names. The five guys that stayed here with J were Erik and Joey (the two I'd helped earlier), Barry, who had extreme antisocial tendencies and still refused to speak to or acknowledge me, Jerry, and Jaxon. The other henchmen didn't live with J, but only showed up when he needed them, and I didn't bother asking about their names since we weren't temporary housemates.

When I was finished with my snack, I wandered back up to the loft to find J. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see him sitting on his bed, covers removed and playing cards spread out in front of him. I recognized the set up. It was Solitaire. His hands moved so quickly that I almost couldn't keep track of what sets he was making or when he discarded something. His skill was amazing, and I thought that I could probably watch him play cards all day. He was wearing his blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his jacket somewhere else and his shoes were kicked into the corner of his room. His socks were bunched up at his ankles and he looked disheveled in a very childish, innocent way. I leaned against the door as I watched him.

"_Harl,_" He cooed, without looking up. "It's not _nice _to _stare._"

"Sorry," I murmured and then crawled over to the mattress, sitting beside him and watching him as he finished another set and put it up top.

"D'you play _cards?_" He asked, licking his lips. I watched him as he spoke. God, I liked to look at him. He was so fascinating. It was still strange to see him in his makeup in person.

I cleared my throat. "A little."

"What do you play?" He asked, quietly, slamming his last Ace down on the pile of cards and sighing in satisfaction, beating the game in record time. Then, he grabbed the deck and started to shuffle it as he turned towards me, eyes not leaving mine as he flipped the deck between his fingers and thumbs.

"I'm pretty lucky when it comes to poker," I said with a raised eyebrow. He grinned, his eyes lidded.

"Mm," He replied. "Is that _so_?" I sensed a challenge coming on and straightened up, smirking back at him. He watched me nod with that same sly expression and then said, "Well we'll just have to, uh, _see _about that, won't we?"

An hour later, we were downstairs at the kitchen table and a small pile of loose change and bills, a pack of cigarettes, a small swiss army knife with at least a dozen extensions, a red lighter and a fairly nice watch were sitting in the middle. Erik, Jaxon and Joey had volunteered to play with us. Jerry was watching GCN on the small rabbit-eared television and Barry was scribbling something on a notebook page in the corner. I idly wondered what it was, but I was much too invested in the game to care. I had a great hand and I was certain this round was mine. So far I already had won a round, though the stakes were much higher in this one, and all the pocket change I'd won was back in. J was staring at me across the table, his cards spread out like a fan in front of his mouth and I could only see his ghoulish eyes. The makeup was wearing thin on his face, and most of it had come off in streaks, but that just added to the effect. I mocked him and pretended to fan myself off with my hand, yawning. I could see the lines of his face turn up by his eyes and knew he was grinning. Slowly, he lowered his cards and I tried to hold back a laugh at the milk-mustache he was sporting on his upper lip. _Got milk? _He mouthed. I burst out laughing, but was able to control myself shortly after. Erik looked at me funny, slightly smiling, but then looked back down at his hand. "Fold," Jaxon said with a grunt, dropping his cards onto the table. J was distracted now, back in game mode, but I couldn't help peaking up now and again and grinning when I saw him take another sip of milk from his glass and wiping the excess off with the back of his wrist.

Ironically, when I first met him I hadn't expected him to be… Well, funny. My belly ached from laughing at him so much. I think he enjoyed the captive audience as much as I enjoyed his laughs. His henchmen were probably too frightened to ever really enjoy his antics, and I knew that this was refreshing for the both of us. I never laughed before J came along.

Erik folded too, and the Joker leaned back in his seat, smirking. He was holding strong too. His hand was good. We both watched Joey as he gnawed on the inside of his mouth. "Fuck it. I fold." Joker hooted with laughter and leaned forward on the table, watching me with excited eyes.

"Your move, _Harley girl,_" He growled. "Show me what ya got."

After a moment of hesitation, I countered. "You first." Jaxon whistled under his breath and the Joker's lips twitched at the corners. He was fighting not to smile.

He dropped his hand to the table and I looked at it with interest, before leaning back with a grin. He narrowed his eyes at me and I dropped my hand down next to his. "Royal flush," I replied. His nose wrinkled in irritation and I noticed the henchmen's eyes all grow wide. I worried for a moment that beating him was absolutely the worst thing to do, but when he looked up, he was smiling deviously.

"Hm," He mused. "It's nice to have a little competition for _once!_" He said, but then he started laughing as he stood up from the table. Erik narrowed his eyes at his bosses back as he left the room and I scooped up my winnings.

"He says that now, but if one of us actually beat him, there'd be a bullet in our face," He says, shaking his head, a small laugh of denial in his voice. They really were terrified of him, but he was also their boss, their master, and they wouldn't leave, even though he probably wouldn't care if they did.

"Why do you stay with him, then? Why not go start over?" I asked, pocketing the small amount of cash and slipping the knife into my waistband. I put the watch on and admired the glass, though it was a little scratched and left the lighter and cigarettes on the table for Jaxon to take back.

Erik shrugged one shoulder. "I have nowhere else to go. My records too full, and my family disowned me years ago. The boss gives me a place to stay and things to keep me busy. So why would I leave?"

I didn't reply to him. I couldn't argue with that. Besides, he could very well ask me the same thing. Why would I stay with him? Granted, my reasons were very different, but we both appreciated the Joker in different ways. I could understand his reasoning. "Some of the boys can't even live on their own. Barry can't speak to anybody but the boss. It's like he just cures him with his presence. I don't know. He attracts that kind of mind." Erik stood then, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck. "He seems a little less erratic with you around, though. I don't know why. Woman's touch, I guess," He muttered. I smiled a little when he said that. I wasn't sure what it exactly it meant about him, but I liked the sound of it.

**I crawled into bed later that night to** the sound of J humming something in the bathroom and the flickering of light as he moved around the room and his shadow bounced on the wall. He occasionally would start talking to himself in a hushed voice. I heard my name a few times, along with lots of other strange random tidbits of conversation and other names of people and places I didn't know. When he finally got into bed hours later, he was still on his back for a few minutes before exhaling loudly and then turning onto his side. Before I could comprehend the situation, he was lifting my head and scooting his arm under me, letting me use it as a pillow and then wrapping his other arm tightly around my midriff. My eyes widened at the sudden change of position, and at the casual intimacy of how he was holding me.

He exhaled again, this time content. It blew my hair around my face. It was warm, just like his body against mine. He was like my own personal furnace for the night. I decided not to say anything, not wanting to ruin the moment, and instead curled up tighter into him and snuggled against the hard muscle of his forearm and went to sleep immediately.


	14. Chapter 14

**chapter 14**

A week passed. J left sometime in the middle of the night and returned in the late morning almost everyday. I'd get up and eat breakfast which was usually whatever cereal one of the boys had picked up and coffee. I got to know a few of the henchmen better, but I mainly stayed on my own turf (or J's turf). When J came home, he'd come and yell at someone for a bit, then play cards with me or even just lay around the bedroom with me, often times telling me stories that I didn't pay too much attention to, because I knew they were made up. Sometimes he'd draw little patterns on my skin with the tip of his finger as he talked. Eventually, J relented and sent out some of his men to sneak into my apartment and bring me some clothes. They reported that it had been marked off with caution tape and that there were photos of the place taped around, waiting to spot any change. I wondered just what everyone had thought happened to me.

Sean and Crane were the two big ones on my mind. Did they think I was dead? Did Crane think I'd fallen off the deep end? Did Sean just assume Joker killed me by now? I had a lot of questions, but none of them stayed on my mind for more than a few minutes at a time.

The bag that the guys had brought me had enough random articles of clothing to last me for about a week without washing, and they threw in a few extras like shampoo from my shower (at my request) and my wallet. I chucked my credit cards without thinking twice and stashed the rest of my cash in the billfold.

It was the tenth day of living with J at the Ha-Hacienda before plans started to be made. I heard J talking to the boys about a big scheme, though I could never tell what exactly it was, and I didn't know why. Maybe he spoke cryptically, leaving out everything important so smoothly, just so I would stay in the dark on the subject. I figured it had to do with the Titan that was currently being stored in the garage connected to the studio.

One of the few times I tried to ask what the plan was, he simply leant down to me, a smile like we were conspiring planted firmly on those red painted lips. "_Harley,_" He murmured, taking my hand solicitously. "The _plan,_" He purred. "Is to _have _no plan. You see," He said, waving a hand in outlandish gestures like he always did that had me transfixed on his face. "Most _people _are circles. I am a zigzag in a _world full _of circles! The circles are constantly going round and round with their same boring cycles, thinking they're doing something with their lives, but constantly going 'round and 'round uselessly." He paused, looking at me to make sure I understood. I nodded eagerly. "But me… I'm not a circle. I am constantly changing direction. Never sticking to a plan. Now, _you,_" He said, flipping my hand over roughly in his calloused palms. "You're like this."

His long finger started to trace a circle on my palm, then suddenly stopped, swooping back in to make a somewhat thicker version of a crescent moon. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm deformed?" I asked. He rolled his eyes, tapping my hand.

"You're a circle trying to escape a circular world. Constantly trying to get out, but always getting sucked right back in. With a life like yours," He said and then cleared his throat. "Like it used to be, there's no way you can be anything _but _a circle. But I'm teaching you _how. _You see?"

I nodded my brow furrowed. His logic made sense… Somewhat. But I was still having trouble seeing how that answered my question. He grinned at me then, baring his stained teeth happily and placing a sloppy kiss on my knuckles before waltzing away.

More henchmen came and went, and occasionally random faces would disappear never to show up again. I didn't linger on what I imagined J had done to them.

**"****_Jingle bells, Bat_****man ****_smells. _****Robin laid an **_egg,_" Joker sung under his breath as he wandered the house one night. It was approaching Christmas, though we had another two weeks. Snow was covering the ground and window sills already and I was happy to know we were going to be having a white Christmas. J approached me and grabbed me up in his arms quickly, making me scream.

"Put me down, J!" I yelled, but he didn't listen, and instead set me down on his feet and started to swirl around the room, making us dance as he sang.

"The batmobile lost a _wheel _and the Joker and _Harley _got a_way,_" He finished dramatically. I was laughing by the end of the song, and my cheeks were flushed from the joy I felt when he threw my name in his song. As we slowed to a stop, he whispered huskily in my ear, "I have an early present for you."

"Oh?" I squeaked. He nodded quickly and then grabbed my hand, spinning me off his feet and back onto the floor. He pulled me to the bed and he sat down in a flop, pulling me down with him. The look in his eyes was malicious, and fiery and maybe even slightly lustful. My heart was pounding in curiosity at what he was about to do. He pushed me down on my back and straddled my hips on the mattress, placing his hands firmly on either side of my head.

"I want you to _know, _that I, uh, really _am _enjoying your company. And this is my little way of _showing _you." His gloved hand slid my shirt slowly and tantalizingly up my skin, and I could see the way my heart was beating through the skin of my stomach. I was breathing hard now. I didn't let my hopes get up. The idea that J might be… _Wanting _me was a little too much for me to handle, and so I closed my eyes and waited impatiently to see what he was going to do.

When I felt the cold steel of the knife against my skin, my eyes opened quickly and I stared at him in horror. "J," I said.

"Harley, _sh sh sh. _I won't _hurt _you. Not really," He told me, stroking my cheek gently and then focusing again on my hip. I gritted my teeth as I waited for the slice. I knew this was coming. I had always known, I'd just tried putting it out of my mind, thinking that I'd deal with it when it came. And when it did, I didn't expect my reaction.

I exhaled harshly as the knife started to cut into me. It was double-edged and the cut was clean and swift through my skin, though I know he was going slow on purpose, dragging out the pain. It wasn't that bad, though, that was what surprised me. Yes, it hurt, but it was more of the fact that it was shocking than it was uncomfortable. I was still holding the sheets tightly in my fists, grunting slightly as the knife started to curve. What was he cutting in me? It obviously was some sort of pattern, but I couldn't focus against the sensation of him cutting me open.

My eyelids burned red, and I snapped them open again to stare deeply into J's eyes. His lips were parted and he was breathing hard, too, and the hunger in his eyes hadn't faded at all. If anything, it had grown. Of course it was lust, just not the kind I had been imagining. It was blood lust, and I could feel the tension in his body as he sliced my skin. I knew he'd been dying to do this since we'd met, and had been waiting for the perfect moment. My fists slowly released the sheets and moved up to his biceps, leaving my hands on his arms as I watched him cutting me with careful strokes. Finally, the tip of the knife left my skin and I felt warm, sticky blood sliding down my skin and soaking the bed underneath me. Reluctantly, I dragged my eyes away from his and looked at my hip.

A beautiful, bloody J was carved into my skin. He had marked me as his. I wasn't confused on his reasons even slightly. I was now branded, and anyone who tried to deny his ownership of me could just look at my skin and know. I was his. I had never wanted him more than in this moment.

I looked back up at him with a lazy grin on my lips and saw him staring at me with a tight jaw and hooded eyes. "_Harley_," He growled, and in the same breath, grabbed the back of my head, wrapping his fingers in my hair and jerking my mouth against his roughly. I moaned loudly, all of my fantasies appearing in my head one after the other, and the lust I felt for him was impossibly strong. He was kissing me! I had been imagining this moment for weeks, but what felt like forever. The thrill I felt was even stronger because I knew that it was only me he wanted. J wasn't a romantic guy, or a sexual guy, and the fact that he'd kept me around this long, claimed me as his and now was kissing me... I gripped his arms harder, trying to get him closer, though I knew it wasn't possible. His scars rubbed against my cheeks with every move of his jaw and mouth and in my passion, my tongue swept across his tongue and teeth and over his cheek, feeling the rough flesh of his scars. They were drier than the rest of his mouth, slightly bumpy, but also smooth in their own peculiar way. It took a moment for me to draw my tongue away, entranced by the addictive feeling.

His hand grabbed my hip roughly, yanking me towards him. His fingers dug into my open wound at the same time that his clothed erection grinded into me. The two feelings were polar opposites, and feeling them at the same time made them both more intense, and I suddenly knew why some people got off on pain. It was the most intense kind of feeling, making my vision go black on the edges as I whimpered for him, a mix of pain and lust. He shuddered and his lips sunk to my neck, biting, tugging and sucking so roughly that I knew I would bruise.

I started to shove his jacket off of him, desperate to see him in all his glory, desperate to have him inside me, finally, after all this time. He seemed just as passionate about it, yanking his clothes off angrily. A growl ripped through his throat as his knife cut through my shirt. His eyes met mine again and he pulled me forward for another kiss. Against my lips, he growled, "_My _Harley…"

**In the basement of Gotham's Major Crimes** Unit, Commissioner Gordon was staring blankly down at the picture of a pretty blonde doctor that worked at Arkham Asylum. _Worked. _That was the key word. No one had heard anything from her for about two weeks, just a little bit less than the amount of time that the Joker had escaped from the asylum. The two were connected. That was obvious. He'd had some sort of infatuation with her while he was locked up. Everyone knew something had happened. They just didn't know what.

"Gordon! We've got news. Get up here," Detective Ramirez shouted at Gordon from the steps. The Commissioner sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes.

"About what?"

"Quinzel. Hurry. The Batmans here to see you." At that, Gordon jumped up from his chair and followed the detective up to the front of the MCU. The Batman was standing in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Gordon knew the only reason the Bat dared to show up was because it was so late at night. Other than Gordon and Ramirez, there was only one other cop here. Neither of them would do anything to take the Batman into custody, and Gordon knew the truth. Batman was innocent. Gordon had been completely reluctant to lie to the public about the Dent crimes, but it was insisted upon, and now he was living a lie, shaming his friend while praising the madman that almost slaughtered his son. Pain lanced through his chest at the memory. He hadn't heard from Barbara in two days. She was refusing to let him back in the house.

"You came," Gordon stated, obviously flustered. He hadn't expected to see him out and about, but what with the Joker running loose again, the Batman refused to sit idly by and let him destroy the city again.

"Two men stopped by Harleen Quinzel's apartment yesterday." His voice was harsh and gravelly, and Gordon knew he was only doing it to protect his identity.

"Were they robbers?" Gordon asked, leaning against one of the desks closest to them, and crossing his arms over his chest.

Batman shook his head. "All they left with was a backpack full of clothes, and," He paused. "Shampoo." Gordon frowned, his brow creasing in confusion. Why would they… "They were both wearing clown masks."

"You think the Joker is keeping her captive? You don't think she's dead," He stated then, a bit of relief flooding through him. Then the cold hard reality of the situation sunk in. If she was being held captive, what kind of conditions would they be keeping her in?

Batman narrowed his eyes. "I think she's there willingly."

"I don't know how that would have happened. The last place she was recorded being seen was the Iceberg Lounge. How would she have suddenly found him?"

The Batman didn't reply for a minute, just concentrating on his thoughts. "I'm going to… _Talk… _To Cobblepot. I don't trust him, no matter how perfect his alibi is. He can buy his way out of almost anything."

Gordon nodded once more. "Okay. Alright, just, be careful, and please -" When he looked up, the Batman was gone. With a roll of his eyes, Gordon headed back downstairs to grab his things. "Theatrics," He grumbled.

**When I woke up the next morning, I could sense** something was wrong. J was not in bed and the room was even more of a mess than usual. I was aching all over as I sat up in bed and the moment the blankets fell off me I was shivering. I dressed quickly and threw my hair back without looking in the mirror, knowing I probably looked like hell, and then started down the steps. I heard J screaming downstairs, but I couldn't tell what was going on. Leaning over the loft, I looked around but couldn't see him or any of the clowns. The door to the garage was open. I skipped down the steps and ran into the garage, gaping at the sight. Half of the supply of Titan was drained out of the back of the van and a steady drip was flowing onto the concrete below. "Boss, the only guy unaccounted for is Jerry," I heard Barry say quietly as he approached the Joker. J bared his teeth evilly.

"I'm going to have to teach that boy a _lesson _for double crossing me," He growled. His head jerked sharply to the side and saw me standing there and his eyes narrowed. "Get in the van, Harley. We have _work _to do. Move it, boys!" He shouted. Without arguing, I nodded and ran back inside to get my clown mask and toboggan.

When I made it back out to the garage, Erik wandered up and said quietly, "We think he was working for Cobblepot."

My brow lowered and I nodded. "What are we going to do?"

Erik cracked his neck and frowned, looking at the Joker. "Not sure. But we've gotta get that Titan back or we're all in trouble."

J came over and growled at Erik, "Done running your _mouth?_"

"Yes, sir," He apologized, and ran off towards the front of the van.

J looked me up and down once, eyes lingering on certain places scrutinizingly. "Blue is a good color on you," He purred, staring at my neck. I raised my fingertips to the skin there and it throbbed under my fingers. It was bruised beyond belief from last night. When he saw me flinch gently, he grinned, baring his teeth and then grabbed my hips roughly, yanking me towards him. His kiss was harsh and passionate and tasted stale like old cigarettes. I grabbed the lapels of his coat firmly and kept him against me, not wanting to let him go. "Come on, baby," He said then. "We've got _places _to go, and people to gut." I was surprised by the small smile on my lips as he said that. J was twisting my psyche more and more everyday. He grabbed my hand in his and pulled me with him into the van.

**Well! Finally got ****_that _****out of the way. I don't know about you guys but I was definitely impatient for them to uh, consummate their relationship. I honestly love this chapter so much. If you guys read any of my other stuff, I'm sure you'll realize that it's a recurring theme that it's kind of always Christmas time...? Christmas and coffee are my two big things in my stories. Anyway, please please please review! It isn't just to give me an ego boost, I like to know what I'm doing right and wrong, and it makes me feel like I'm actually writing for a purpose and not just for the voices in my head.**


	15. Chapter 15

**chapter 15**

"Where to, boss?" One of the men asked before we closed the doors.

"Iceberg lounge," He grumbled. "I, uh, highly _doubt _that Mr. _Cobble_pot is still there, but better safe than sorry, eh?" He grinned viciously at the clown - I couldn't tell whose face it was under the mask, though I assumed it was Jaxon. The nervous clown nodded and then slammed the doors closed, leaving me and J alone in the van. He looked at me with lidded eyes and a cocked head. "You don't seem as… _Nervous _these days." He hissed the _s _at the end, drawing it out, making the sentence more sinister than it needed to be.

"I've gotten used to the," I hesitated as I tried to think of a word. "Excitement."

He smiled again and leaned back, tapping his feet. "I must admit, I _do _enjoy having a hench_woman. _It's a _first._"

"It's my first time being one," I mumbled. I smiled at him then as I tucked my hair up inside my beanie and then slipped my mask over my face. "How do I look, Mr. J?" I fluttered my eyelashes.

"I think you'd look _better _with a gun," He replied, handing me the semi-automatic beside him. I threw the strap over my shoulder and sat back against the wall again. The drive from the studio to the Lounge was around twenty minutes. As soon as we arrived around back, J corralled us in a circle and said, "Harley is our _ace _in the hole, _boys._"

I raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. This was news to me. "What?" I asked him, surprised.

"You know the ins and outs of Cobble's little, uh, _fortress, _and don't tell me you don't, because we had our first," He hesitated, cocking his head from side to side as he pulled me against his hip. "_Date _here." I swallowed but nodded. It seemed like it had been forever ago that I'd gotten drinks here with Sean, when in reality it was only weeks. "You're my _second _in _command, _sweets."

"Sure, boss," I replied, somewhat frightened and somewhat flattered. His eyes flashed at that and his lips twitched into a small smile again.

"You boys go in first, get the place… _Settled down, _for Harl." The boys nodded and ran off, except for Erik, who I knew J liked to have around as a backup. The Joker grabbed my hips again and yanked me closer, the only thing stopping us from being mashed together was the butt of his gun, hanging down between us. "Think you can be _careful _for Daddy?" He purred quietly. My stomach dropped into my groin at the ridiculously sensual voice he used coupled with referring to himself that way. It had never turned me on before, when women called their boyfriends or lovers _Daddy, _but with J it just… Fit.

I nodded happily. Grabbing his coat lapels, I said, "You got it, Mr. J." He smirked theatrically and then pushed me off, not too rough, as my cue to head inside. I heard screaming as I sprinted off towards the doors, my gun in my hands.

The Lounge was now overrun with seven clowns, all screaming different orders at the kneeling clientele. The one that I thought was Barry was prodding people with his gun as he meandered through the room. As soon as I walked in, the boys quieted down and the one closest to me nodded. I nodded back inconspicuously. Summoning the deepest corners of my old Brooklyn self (a place I hadn't lived in years, but could still use the accent perfectly) I began to talk, demanding everyone's attention. "Alright, ladies and gents! Not to be too cliche, but we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Who wants to give me access to the penthouse?" I asked, cocking my hip out and placing my hand on it, holding my gun towards the ceiling with one hand. After no one bothered to agree or speak up, I said, "Aw, you don't want me to call in the big guns, do ya? Come on in, _sweetie!_" I said loudly. Everyone looked around, panicked. They hadn't expected a woman, let alone this show of dominance from anyone but J.

As the Joker walked in, followed by Erik, gunshots rang out all around the room, almost deafening in the large acoustics. I turned to see J shooting haphazardly at the ceiling. Multiple people screamed and flinched. "Thank for the, uh, _introduction, _doll," He growled, with a grin. He walked past me, shoulders hunched up, prowling like a cat. The crowd's terror multiplied. I could feel it in the air. "Now, we _all know _it isn't nice to keep people waiting. Especially when those _people _are armed to the _teeth._" He grabbed something from his pocket, something as big as his hand and bright red and flung it underhandedly into the crowd. Women shrieked and everyone backed away. I leaned in to see what he'd thrown and had to hold back a laugh as I heard the give away.

Chattering teeth.

I heard a sigh of relief from somewhere in the audience.

Right before the teeth exploded.

The screams rose in pitch from scared to bloody-murder. I flinched at the explosion and my ears rang slightly afterwards, though it wasn't as loud as a gunshot next to my ear. When I was able to focus again, I saw that the wall nearest the explosion was splattered with blood and that someone was loudly sobbing. It had hit a target. I wondered where the body was.

"I'm _perfectly _willing to do this all night," He cooed, happily, producing a still pair of teeth from his pocket. Someone started to sob even louder. I found it ridiculous that something related to a chensy toy could scare people so easily. Sure, it wasn't just a toy, but have some respect, I thought with a roll of my eyes.

"Okay!" Someone shouted from the crowd. "Just _stop!_" We all looked around to see the brave soul who had spoken up. I recognized him - it was the host who I had met twice. I flinched, but I knew there was no way he would recognize me. "I'll give you the card. But Cobblepot _isn't here! _Just let these people go," He begged, throwing the card out towards us. It skidded across the tile and came to a stop at the toe of my boot. I grabbed the card and pocketed it quickly. J turned to see me and nodded towards the elevator.

"Go on up and _scope it out _for me, will you, my dear?" He asked.

"Whatever you say, Mr. J!" I said chirpily, trying to establish a different aura of personality from the Harleen Quinzel everyone knew before. After all, I wasn't that girl. I was Harley Quinn now, the Joker's henchgirl, one of his clowns. I fit the part now. I pointed at Joey and one of the guys I didn't know by name and waved my arm in a motion that said _Follow me! _The two clowns jogged forward, and one of the other unnamed clowns moved closer to J as extra protection. I blew a kiss at the Joker and then turned around, skipping to the elevator and swiping the key pass. The clowns followed me in and as soon as the doors closed, Joey spoke up.

"Wooh!" He relaxed against the wall as we slowly made our way up to the Penguin's penthouse. "You sure know what you're doing, Harley. You're a natural."

I grinned at that. "Not so bad yourself. Get ready, guys." I raised my gun up defensively as the elevator slowed to a stop. It pinged loudly and then the doors started to slide open. I wasn't terribly surprised to see that the penthouse was empty. I think we all knew the Penguin would have left by now, if he had even been the one to hire Jerry to steal the Titan, but like J said, better safe than sorry. The two henchmen walked out first, circling fast with their guns to make sure the area was secure. I followed, confident in the fact that no one was here. The penthouse was dead quiet. I paced around nonchalantly, looking for anything off, but found nothing. Twirling in a circle, I paused once I reached the balcony. On the table off to side, a smiling clown mask was staring at me.

I turned around and jogged back to the other guys. "I found Jerry's mask!"

Joey sighed as he shook his head. "Never trusted that bastard. Hopefully the Penguin does him in, or J's gonna give it to him a lot worse."

"Deserves it," I muttered. The sound of police sirens made me jump. I turned to look over at the open balcony and groaned when I saw the shining Bat insignia illuminated on the clouds.

"Fuck," The unnamed clown said loudly. "We've got company."

The red and blue flashing lights from outside were bright from even this high up. I rushed over to the balcony and leaned over, gripping the bar and gritting my teeth as panic seized my heart. "Shit," I whispered. "The cops are already coming inside!" I shouted. "Where the fuck do we go?" I wasn't terribly concerned with myself getting caught. What terrified me was the thought of J going back to Arkham - or worse, getting shot.

"Well we sure as hell aren't going down the elevator," Joey said, coming to rest at my side. "Harlan! What do we do?"

The clown named Harlan scratched the back of his head. "Jump off the balcony?" He suggested. I groaned. _J, how do you deal with these idiots?_ I turned around quickly and started rushing around the room, looking for any other way out of this place. J was right - this was Penguin's fortress, and he'd done much too damn well of a job. I grabbed the kitchen counter and leaned my head forward as I shifted on my feet.

"Fuck," I hissed. "Fuck!" I looked up and came face to face with an empty tray of food. I stared at it for a minute, a realization dawning on me. "The dumbwaiter."

"What?" Joey asked.

"The dumbwaiter! It'll lead straight to the kitchen, in the back. We can get out through there and get to the van."

"You're a genius," He said and sprinted around the bar to the silver dumbwaiter, lifting the door with a grunt. "We're gonna have to climb down," He said after a minute. My brow lowered, but neither of them seemed too bothered by the idea. Joey was already hiking one leg over the side of it and gripping his foot against the wall. "Well? Get your asses over here." I shared a look with Harlan and we both circled the bar, waiting impatiently for our turn. Joey lowered himself down far enough that I could throw my leg over and I mocked his movements, setting the edges of my shoes on the pipes lining the walls. My gloved fingers gripped the pipes well, the insides specifically made for climbing. I praised God that I'd thought to bring these. We were all a few feet down when we heard the ping of the elevator. Cops. Harlan cursed and pulled the dumbwaiter closed seconds before we heard the shouting.

"Police! Put your hands in the air!" The footsteps were barely audible over Joey's chanting beneath me. "_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,_" He whispered as we climbed. We were going fast now, probably too fast, and I worried that either I would fall on Joey or Harlan would fall on his both. I gritted my teeth at the thought. Harlan was a burly guy. My foot slipped on the next pipe, that was slick with some unidentified liquid and I caught myself from squealing as all my weight fell to one side of the shaft. The clang of pipes was loud in my ears and Harlan groaned.

Moments later, the dumbwaiter door was shoved open and the beam of a flashlight shone down on us, temporarily blinding me. "You! Stop right there!" As I regained my balance, terror set in. We were like fish in a barrel down here. There was no way we could dodge a bullet if they shot, and if we continued to move, they'd sure as hell radio more cops down to the kitchen.

"Harlan, move," I hissed.

"What the fuck are you doi-" He demanded, just as I raised my gun between his legs and fired blindly above us. I gasped as a long stream of bullets shot from the rifle, not expecting that much force. The recoil almost knocked me back off balance. I heard Harlan curse above me. He was poised with spread legs on either side of the wall a couple feet above me, leaning backwards on the other wall with his hands. _Please don't let me shoot him, _I thought. I heard screams above us as the cops tried to dodge my spray of bullets, but I heard the sound of pained moans and knew I'd hit someone. I looked up to see the body of a man in blue leaning over the shaft by his waist. The feeling that coursed through my veins knowing that I had been the one to kill him was something I couldn't pin down.

"Go!" I shouted down to Joey. He sped up, moving quickly down the shaft and I followed, throwing my gun back over my shoulder. Harlan didn't stop his cursing the entire way down. We reached the first floor not a minute later and Joey yanked the door open, throwing himself out quickly and grabbing his gun.

"It's clear!" He said over his shoulder. I tossed one leg over the side and then shimmied my way out and onto the counter beside it before slipping down to the tile. The sounds of screaming and sirens were louder the closer we got to the entrance of the Lounge. Sprinting, Joey, Harlan and I all made our way through the exit door of the kitchen. The sun was just starting to go down, but there was enough light for us to make our way towards the van. My heart throbbed in panic when I saw the second car was gone. Had they made it out? Was J safe?

I hopped in the passenger door and Joey got in quickly beside me, starting the engine as fast as his shaking hands would let him. Harlan slid in beside me and we were off before the door could even close. My heart was pounding against my ribs and my fingers were shaking, but a large grin was split across my face. I had never felt more excited. Joey whooped in satisfaction as we drove away, jumping up in his seat. "Fuck yes!" He shouted. I started to laugh as we drove, the freezing wind just adding to the adrenaline of our getaway. Harlan was laughing with me and Joey was hollering out the window happily. How had I ever survived in the world before this? This was where I belonged.

***stares at you guys with an evil grin from behind my The Dark Knight Rises mug of coffee* Wooh. Writing that was exhausting. Fast paced scenes always are. I had to go through it and redo it at least five times before I got the pacing ever somewhat good. But then again, I like it kind of jumbled up because it's from Harley's perspective and well, this is her first time in J's world, and first time ****_killing. _****So it has to seem kind of crazy. But! What did you guys think of this chapter? Chapter 16 will be up tomorrow!**


	16. Chapter 16

**chapter 16**

After our moment of adrenaline fueled insanity, we settled back into a grim understanding that the rest of our men - and the Joker - could very well be dead or arrested. I was sick to my stomach on the way back to the studio. The other car had been gone when we'd gotten outside, so obviously _someone _had escaped, but who?

We were quiet for the rest of the drive home.

As we pulled to a stop in the garage, I exhaled shakily. The van was nowhere in sight. "Holy shit," Joey whispered. Harlan was the first to make a move. He wrenched open the door and slid out, anxiously heading into the studio while yanking his clown mask off his head. I was gripping mine tightly in my hands, my knuckles white from the grip on the plastic. "Harley," He muttered quietly, hesitating to open the door. I didn't bother to look up, not wanting to hear what anyone had to say. "Harley, he's probably fine."

I couldn't take my eyes off the white mask in my hand, the hard anger boiling inside me something that I couldn't disrupt. He wasn't here. What did that mean? Was he safe? Was he alive? No. I couldn't let myself think that way. _Of course _he was alive. This was the Joker we were talking about. After all he's been through, a little run in at the Iceberg Lounge with a few policemen wasn't enough to take him down.

No.

If he died, it wasn't going to be on some half-assed mission. It was going to be iconic. I knew he would make sure of that. His massive ego wouldn't allow anything to come between him and his plans. That was the only consolation I had that he was okay. After minutes of sitting in silence in the car by myself, I slid out and slammed the door closed before angrily making my way into the apartment. "Put on some coffee," I demanded into the empty living room, hoping one of the boys would hear me. I didn't know what was coming over me. I wasn't the kind of person to boss people around, especially dangerous convicts. I felt like tonight I'd earned a higher rank in the gang, though. I was no longer just another clown, I was the Joker's… Girlfriend. Partner. The Bonnie to his Clyde. I had earned the right to call the shots. After all, I _was _the one to get us out alive tonight. It had been _my _idea to go down the dumbwaiter. It had been _my _gun and _my _bullets to kill that cop…

Dizzy, I grabbed the door frame leading into J's and my bedroom. That had been me. Just me. Not with J's guidance. The glee I felt was stunning. I wondered if he'd be proud of me.

I killed a man tonight.

I looked down at the gun around my shoulder and took a deep breath.

Oh, things were changing.

**After a boiling hot shower and a few painful screams** at the top of my lungs, I was calm enough to come back downstairs without worrying about burning the place down. I was more than a little pleased to see a full pot of coffee waiting for my arrival and my favorite red and black mug sitting beside it, ready to be filled. In a tiny little corner of reason in my brain, I thought that maybe coffee was the last thing I needed while so stressed. I shoved the reasonable part of me back, suppressing it, and listened to the new side. Coffee had become like another element of survival to me, and I had seen how all the henchmen here and J all drank coffee, too, and knew that it was just another aspect of living like this. I loved it.

I sipped my coffee as I sat down on the couch, wrapped in the comforter from our bed and turned on the TV, flipping to the news. The blanket smelled like J, and mixed with the flavor of the too-strong black coffee, it calmed me down more than I thought it would've. On the TV, I saw the image of the Joker's face flashing brightly, all whites and blacks and reds and purples. The volume was quiet, but I could still make out the words of the reporter of GCN, Vicki Vale. "_- according to many of the hostages, the new recruit of the Joker's team is a woman, and as many of the people are saying, it seems that the Joker and this new member of the clown gang are… A couple?" _Even she sounded confused at that, and she was trained to be steady no matter what. I smirked as I took another swig of my drink. In the corner of the screen, a grainy video of me and Joey hanging off the balcony, looking down at the cop cars and news vans was playing. I sat up, leaning forward and lacing my hands around my mug, watching with a twisted fascination.

"Harley!" I heard from outside the studio.

"What?" I demanded, not taking my eyes off the screen.

Harlan shouted back, loudly, coupled with the sound of running footsteps, "He's here!"

I almost dropped my mug. I set it down on the table quickly, accidently knocking it over with a swing of the blanket and the rest of my coffee spilled onto the ratty carpet, but I couldn't be bothered. I threw the blanket off my shoulders and sprinted towards the door. I saw the flash of purple and tears sprung into my eyes, unwelcome. "J," I gasped. "Holy fuck, you're alive." He turned around and grinned lazily.

"Yeah, _miraculously,_" He growled lowly, pulling back the side of his jacket to reveal a large circle of blood on his green vest. My brow furrowed and my lips parted in horror and understanding. He was shot.

"Shit." He limped over, but other than that, I never would've known he was shot. His eyes were bright and his signature grin was still firmly planted on his face. Throwing his arm around my waist, he grabbed my hip firmly and I put my arm around his back, careful not to touch his wound and we walked into the studio together. "What happened?"

As he layed down on the bed, he grunted slightly and started to pull off his coat as he talked. "The, uh, oh so _helpful _Gotham police showed up _right about _after you left. The," He grunted again as he twisted to the side. "The boys were able to mow down the _front _line, and I got to the dear old Commissioner right when the _Batman _flew in."

"The Bat shot you?" I asked, disbelieving.

He started to laugh wildly, and then moaned slightly in between hoots, gripping his side. "I _wish! _It was a rookie. His _hands _were _shaking._" He cracked up again and I scowled at him, trying to get him to keep still as I unbuttoned his shirt. "At least there'd be a little, ah, _dignity _in getting shot by the Ba_t,_" He said and popped his _t _loudly on the end. As he shrugged out of his shirt, he was staring intently at me with those dark eyes. His makeup was smeared slightly, but the black circles were still in place, making his eyes seem even more dark than they already were. "What about _you_?" He purred. I stood up and took his bloody clothes into the bathroom, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

"I'm fine," I told him as I came back. "I want to get you fixed up." As I kneeled down, he gripped my wrist tightly, pulling me close. I winced at his iron grip.

He looked me in the eye and snarled through his teeth, "I asked, _what about you?_"

I blinked. "I'm unscathed," I told him quietly. "I got us out alive."

"_You _did?" He cooed, leaning back again, seemingly content with my answer. I nodded, though I was shaken up by his hostility. I hadn't seen him act that way towards _me _yet, and though I've been witness to his dark side more often than not, having it directed at me was… New.

"I had the idea to climb down the dumbwaiter, and once the cops got up and found us, I…" I hesitated, but wasn't sure why I was nervous to tell J about my accomplishment. How would he react? "I shot at them, and I killed one of them," I whispered, my fingertips sliding across the pale skin of his abdomen. I couldn't look at his eyes for some reason, so I watched my fingernails play across his skin. He grabbed my wrist again, but not painfully like last time. I looked up at him and saw the look on his face and instantly was filled with a bubbling sense of pride. The smile on his face was pleased and I could see the surprise in his eyes.

"Well, well, _well,_" He sung. "My little _Harley Quinn _has finally arisen." His voice was hushed and dark and I swallowed at the lustful adoration I couldn't help but feel when he looked at me. I smiled widely at him. He was so beautiful, so stunning, not just physically but mentally and I couldn't help but feel as though I was in the midst of a God. How did I ever get so lucky?

**The medical supplies were all shoved in a** black duffle bag under the couch in the living room. Erik grabbed it for me while he told me that they'd stolen it from a hospital that one of the old henchmen worked at before joining the Joker's gang. The clown who'd provided it was long gone from the group, so I didn't bother asking who it was. After he finished his story, I headed back upstairs with the bag slung over my shoulder. J was laying back in bed on a prop of pillows that I'd shoved against the wall. His fingers were prodding around his wound. "What are you doing?" I asked, grabbing his hand away. He grumbled under his breath something I couldn't understand. I narrowed my eyes at him and unzipped the bag roughly, looking inside with a mask of confusion. I had no idea how to take a bullet out.

"You don't have a _clue _what to do, do ya?" He sung quietly in that high-pitched voice of his.

"Not particularly." I raised my chin in defiance.

He giggled and reached into the bag, digging around until he came up with a pair of tweezers. "Ya use _these, _to poke around in _this,_" He told me, pointing to his bullet hole.

"Do you trust me to do that?" He shrugged one shoulder. I sighed. I grabbed a roll of gauze and some scotch tape and set them aside for further use and then leant over his stomach. "If I hurt you, let me know."

He grinned wickedly, baring his teeth. "Try me, doll."

Anxiously, I let the tweezers slide into the hole of his side. He grimaced, but a moment later, his face smoothed out into a small smile and he leaned back, closing his eyes. I flinched as I felt the tweezers sliding against the raw inside of his flesh, bumping against the muscle but he hardly seemed to notice, and I stared at him in shock for a moment. He opened his eyes and raised a brow at me.

"Both hands on the _wheel,_" He said, and twirled a finger at the wound. I could've cried or laughed then. He was probably the only person that could sit back so relaxed as someone dug around inside of him for a bullet. I returned to my work after another second of staring. After a couple minutes of pushing and prodding, I heard the tiny _clink _of the tweezers hitting the bullet. I gnawed on my lip as I tried to get the tool around it. After dropping it again twice, and him grunting and giggling his way through the surgery, I finally got it out and dropped it into my open palm. He sighed. "Look at you, _Doc,_" He said, giggling. He sat up quickly and I put my hands on his chest, still holding the bullet in my palm.

"Don't I need to stitch you up or something?" I asked.

He grabbed my wrists in one hand and pushed me off of him and I sat down on the bed, defeated. He stood up and clutched his side with his hand and meandered into the bathroom, examining the gaping circle. "I can do it my_self._" He snapped his fingers and motioned at the bag. I frowned but grabbed the supplies and carried them into the bathroom for him, propping it up on the counter and sliding up beside it. I watched as he carefully dunked a needle into a bottle of antiseptic and carefully looped a piece of purple thread through the end, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. I was somewhat bothered by the sight of him slowly sliding the needle into his flesh, watching it come back out the other side, but it also fascinated me and I sat, my head cocked as I watched him pull the flesh together on his string, sliding it up to the knot. He looked up at me from under lazy lids and said, "You don't have to _watch this._"

"I know," I whispered. "I want to."

"Mm," He said, sliding it back in for another loop. His face was blank of any emotion as he refocused on his self-surgery. Blood was dripping slowly down his side. "A woman after my own heart," He muttered to himself. "I think it's about _time,_" He said as he pulled the final knot and tied it off. He grabbed some scissors to cut off the rest of the thread.

"Time for what?" I asked curiously.

"To start _teaching _you. Our plan for the _Titan _is still in effect… Christmas Day. We just need to find the rest… And Cobblepot… And the _bastard _that double crossed…" He shook his head, distracted by his train of thought. "I want it to be your, uh, _big reveal_." He tossed the scissors and needle down and walked up to me, putting his hands on either side of my legs, leaning his face in close to mine, making me back up against the mirror. He watched for my reaction.

My big reveal? Coming out as Harley Quinn? The idea thrilled me, but at the same time, I was definitely nervous. "I'd like that," I said with a smile.

He smirked. "We've got _two weeks _to get you… _Ready." _He licked his lips. His dark eyes flickered, giving me an up and down. "Got a lot of work to do."

I brushed off the indirect insult. "I'm ready for anything," I told him, placing my hands on his bare shoulders.

"You might _regret _saying that, my dear." He grinned lecherously at me.

I shook my head. "Never."

**Be careful what you say, Harley... Gah! J's alive, of course, did you ever have any doubt? He's invincible. But I just had to throw in him getting shot because... Well, nothing bad ever happens to him and I wanted something to actually effect him (although he doesn't really care that much, because he's J). Anywho! Review, my henchclowns. You all make me so happy.**


	17. Chapter 17

**chapter 17**

I regretted it.

The Joker was right. Training was intense. The next week and a half were non-stop fighting, shooting, knife throwing and being under constant pressure to perform. J was never satisfied, though sometimes I caught him smiling as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching me as I fought with Erik in the living room. We had gymnastics mats set up like a boxing arena. Most of the time J would fight with me personally. After all, he was the best. His skill was unmatchable. Sometimes though… He liked to critique me instead. Those were the sessions I hated the most, even though the fighting was easier. He was constantly shouting out criticisms. "You're leaving your neck exposed, easy to cut, easy to _hit_. That's a _surefire_ way to get yourself knocked out. Or killed," He growled, circling us like a lion about to strike. "What the fuck was _that, _Harley? Are you even _trying _to hit him? He just gave you a clear opening!" I snarled under my breath in response to his insults, but I knew they were for my benefit. His method of coaching, as destructive as it sounded, made me work harder. I yearned for his approval.

By the end of one session, I'd slit Erik's bicep open deeper than I ever had before. He groaned in pain and cursed and I dropped my hands to my knees, gasping as I watched him grab at his arm. Blood oozed out over his fingers. "Dammit, Quinn!" He shouted.

Joker was cackling from the staircase. He was sitting halfway up, legs kicked out, clapping his hands in appreciation of my performance. I grinned up at him and then looked back at Erik, my sweaty ponytail swinging as I swivelled my neck. I stretched my hand out. "You okay?"

He went to shake my hand, but instead, grabbed my wrist and whirled me around, clutching my ponytail and hugging me to his chest from behind. I gritted my teeth as his knife blade touched my neck. Dammit. My nails dug hard into his forearm but he didn't relent. "Never let your guard down," He said in my ear. I grabbed his arm and swung my head to the right, digging my teeth into his flesh as hard as I could and he cursed again.

"Never give me such an easy place to attack," I said, backing away with outstretched hands, as if to say _and there ya have it. _The taste in my mouth was like iron and I spit onto the mats. It was stained red from his blood. Erik laughed once.

"Bitch," He muttered, but he was smiling.

I hadn't seen J come down the steps but suddenly he was right behind Erik, knife against his temple. "Only _I _can call my girl that," He hissed. "Got it?" My eyes were just as wide as Erik's.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," He rushed to get out. J snarled and shoved him away, walking up to me slowly. He towered above me and looked down at me with no real expression.

"You're doing _well,_" He told me.

With a shaky breath, I wiped my bloody mouth and said, "I have a good teacher." I put my hands on his chest, straightening his tie and he grabbed my wrists in one pale hand, squeezing my fingers tight. I cringed at the pain and he watched me for a minute before letting my hands go. I immediately pulled my fingers into my chest, brow furrowed as I tried to massage the blood back into them.

"There's _four days _till Christmas, boys and girls. Still no, uh, sign of the _Penguin._" By this time, most of the clowns had crowded around, perching on edges of chairs and crossing their arms as they listened to J's speech. I sat down on the couch, crossing my legs up and rubbing my throbbing hand. "We're going ahead with the plan."

"Uh, boss?" Joey asked, raising an eyebrow. "Without the rest of the Titan?"

J stared at him for a minute and said, "Without it. That isn't to _say,_" He said quietly. "That we aren't going to get it back _soon. _But!" He exclaimed happily, raising his arm and waving his finger eagerly in the air. With a grin, he said, "We aren't letting our _dear friend _Mr. Cobblepot spoil our holiday cheer. Now _are we?_" His voice was a growl, but the look in his eyes was almost carnal with the joy he felt at whatever malicious thoughts were flowing through his head. The boys were nodding in agreement and murmuring their consent to the idea. I stayed quiet, knowing that J knew I'd be perfectly happy to go along with whatever he suggested. He glanced down at me for a moment, before returning to the group of clowns. "I'm calling in a _favor..._ Barry -" He demanded, and Barry glanced up nervously from his lap.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Get me Mr. Abramovich's number," He said darkly. I noticed the room's mood change completely at this news. Who was this guy and why were the boys so put off by him? Barry scrambled out of his chair and ran off into the other room. We waited in silence for a few minutes until he came back with a cell phone and a small slip of paper. He didn't say anything else and sat himself back down immediately. J turned, pacing as he flipped open the disposable phone and dialed in the number. We watched him as he paced around the room and finally, stopped, a delighted grin breaking out on his face. "It's me," He growled into the phone. "I've got a job for you."

**He showed up the next day.** I instantly understood why everyone was so afraid of him. Abramovich was big, bigger than big, with a deep Russian accent, covered in tattoos and pounds of muscle. The kicker though, was that he was missing one arm. And in the other arm, he carried a giant mallet. My eyes widened as he came into the studio, lugging his giant hammer behind him. J hooted with laughter as he arrived, his mouth splitting into a giant grin. "_Oh. _Oh, I _missed _having you around, _Mr. Hammer!_" He howled, circling him.

Mr. Abramovich grunted. "Good to see you, Mr. Joker," He said in a deep, gravelly Russian accent. I watched them reunite from the kitchen, keeping a safe distance as I leaned against the counter with my arms crossed. His hair was wild and stuck out from his head in a mass of green strands. He definitely fit in with the gang, I would give him that.

"We have _three _days!" The Joker shouted, holding up two fingers and his thumb. "I _trust _you all know what you're doing." I raised an eyebrow. He had yet to fill me in on any of our plans, and I was at a loss as to what I was going to be doing. Everytime it came up, he avoided talking to me at all costs. It was starting to get on my nerves, especially after I saw that the giant Russian nodded his head along with the boys. I pursed my lips. Even _he _knew the plan. "Harley!" I looked up and saw that J was staring at me impatiently.

"Yeah, Mr. J?" I asked, standing up straighter.

"Come _on_," He purred, extending a gloved hand. Without question, I walked across the room and grabbed his hand. He pulled me along to the steps impatiently and brought me upstairs to our bedroom. "I got you a little… _Something._" He jerked me to a stop and gestured to the bed, where a leather black and red outfit was laying. It had buckles across the waist and diamonds sewn into the legs across my thighs. I grinned. "It's for your big de_but_." He giggled deviously.

"I love it," I told him honestly.

He smirked. "Just one finishing touch…" He grabbed me from behind and pushed me around, against the wall, his face close to mine. I could feel his breath on my cheek as he watched me. I stared into his eyes, wondering what exactly he was about to do. That's when he slowly started to lower himself in front of me, kneeling on the carpet. My hands slid into his hair, gently holding the back of his head. His gloved hands ran up and down my sides, to my hips, grabbing me firmly. He slowly lifted the hem of my shirt, pressing his face against my stomach. I started to breathe faster as he touched me. I wasn't at all surprised when I felt the knife on my skin. It was poised on the opposite hip from where he'd carved the J. He didn't move his face as he started to dig the blade into my skin, slicing down and around in a zigzag pattern. I leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes as my hands fisted in his wavy hair. He was breathing hard against my stomach. The blood was dripping down my shaking skin and onto the hem of my pants, soaking my clothing. When he finally picked up the knife, I thought he was done.

I was wrong. He started to cut again and again, not finishing until he'd sliced four separate places - diamonds, I now saw - on my hip. I exhaled slowly as I heard him drop the knife beside us. I had become used to the pain of his knife from our fighting and I had learned to enjoy it, or at least accept it. With him holding me in such an intimate way, breathing on me, I couldn't help but love every second. That feeling only intensified as his tongue slowly licked away at the blood dripping from my wounds, causing a new sort of sting that made me gasp, and clutch him tighter. My legs involuntarily pushed together, my core starting to throb impatiently from him. The feel of him slowly, sensually cutting me and tasting my blood was too much.

He shuddered, a reaction I hadn't gotten from him before. The realization that he enjoyed hematolagnia struck me and I wanted to laugh at myself for not assuming that sooner. Of course blood turned him on, of course it excited him. Pain excited him, blood and screams. I started to gyrate my hips gently, wanting him to understand that I needed him. He started to laugh against my stomach, his face pressing against me and the sound rumbling inside of me. A month ago, I would've been humiliated, but now… Now I loved that sound. "J," I whined.

He laughed again, and then, in a very dark tone said, "Tell Daddy what you want."

**J's knife was drawing patterns on my back,** raising goosebumps wherever it went. He didn't cut me, though on occasion he would let the blade knick my skin. He was humming Christmas carols. My cheek was pressed against his chest, feeling him breathe underneath me, my leg thrown across his. The tune of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer was the only thing in my ears, and I was in the process of drifting off to a nice deep sleep.

The room was dark except for the red glow of the sunrise outside the spray-painted window. I didn't realize we had stayed up all night. Then again, my schedule was so out of whack these days, that I could never tell what time it was.

I was sore everywhere. Sleeping with the Joker was a very violent affair, rough and passionate, filled with screams and bruises and gasping for air. There was a permanent ache between my legs and my breasts had purple lines marking the placement of his fingers. I whined gently, burying my face deeper into the crook of his shoulder. He chuckled, halting his song. "_Pretty… Little… Harley,_" He murmured, coupled with a dark giggle. "Oh, my _sweet _harlequin. Christmas day can't get here soon enough."

My hands slid up his rib cage and down again. "I want the world to know I'm yours," I replied.

"Mm," He moaned quietly. "_Mine._"

"J?" I spoke up, quietly.

"Mm?" He said again, stroking my hair this way and that. I opened my mouth to reply, but stopped myself, and sat up, making him look at me with a raised eyebrow. "Spit it out, Harley," He said.

I straddled him, putting my hands on his stomach as I looked him in the eye. "I think I'm in love with you." He watched me for a few moments and I started to feel terribly on display under his scrutiny. He wouldn't reply, and while I hadn't exactly expected him to say it back, the silence was unnerving. I hadn't expected him to move, let alone so quickly, so when he sat and flung me around, spinning us so that he was on top of me on the bed, I gasped in surprise. One of his knees was in between my legs, his hips pressed down into mine. One of his hands held my wrists and the other was gently cupping my throat.

"You _love _me," He growled almost gently.

"Yes," I whispered, extremely conscious of the palm that was slowly gripping my throat tighter.

His head turned one way and the other as he watched me intently. I wasn't sure what direction he was going to go in. "My dear little _Harley _Quinn." He grinned lazily. "Sweet girl." His fingers crept down my body till they rested at the burning spot between my legs and I jumped at the sudden pleasure. "So what you're saying is… This belongs to _me?_" He asked, manipulating that spot with his skilled, long fingers and I moaned gently as I arched my back. I nodded vigorously. His other hand groped at my breast and he asked, "And _these _are mine?"

"Yes, J, everything I have is yours," I whimpered. He giggled and I shivered at the dark noise.

"So," He mused, "If I wanted to, say… Do _this?_" I hadn't realized he'd been holding his knife still and I felt the edge of the blade resting just against my most sensitive of skins. I froze in my spot, trying to keep still, even as his fingers slid further down and deep inside of me, pumping in and out at a delicious rhythm. "It would be _okay?_"

I wasn't sure how to reply. On one hand, I was not at all willing to give him any reason to doubt my declaration, but on the other, the feeling of the knife against me was frightening enough to give me cardiac arrest. "J," I whispered.

He smiled down at me, helpless underneath him, the subject of his mercy. "_Well?_" I closed my eyes and with a strong resolve, I nodded, cursing myself internally. He cackled with laughter at that, trailing the blade lightly across me as his finger sped up inside of me. The conflicting sensations were driving me insane. "_That's _Daddy's little girl," He snarled in my ear and bit down hard on it. I moaned, arching up into him. He threw the knife to the ground and it clanged loudly as it hit something. His hand angrily sped up inside of me, him growling to the same rhythm in my ear, rasping violent words and thoughts into my ear. The things he said made the act of him penetrating me seem even more dirty than it was, more wrong, and it drove me straight over the edge.

I erupted around his fingers, my hands gripping his shoulders as I dug my nails into the scarred flesh of his back. "_Oh, _J, oh…"

"That's it," He cooed in my ear as I settled back down, lying in the pillows, exhausted and satiated for the time being. He laid over me, still slowly working his fingers inside of me, slowing down before sliding them out. He sat up once he knew I was stable and went into the bathroom, yanking on clothes. His makeup had smeared throughout the night and once he had his shirt and vest on, he rolled the sleeves up and grabbed the small tins of greasepaint. I watched him lovingly as he dipped his fingers in the white paint and started to smear it across his face.

I decided it was time for me to get out of bed myself. I dressed quickly and headed downstairs to put on some coffee. All of the henchmen were asleep. It was early in the morning, the sun just now rising, and this was the normal bedtime around here. I got the coffee started and then patiently waited for it to get done brewing. I filled up my mug and left the rest for J. I wandered out to the garage, pulling me jacket tighter around my arms in the cold and wandered over to the mats. I'd been getting my fair share of exercise with training but hadn't been focusing much on my gymnastics.

I set my coffee down and started with some simple stretches, making my way up to backbends and then a back hand spring. I had been practicing for an hour before anyone came to disturb me. "Harley." I looked up at Erik from my handstand, and flipped myself down. I threw my hair back and jogged over.

"What's up?"

"We're about to leave," He said, rubbing his eyes. I could tell he wasn't thrilled to be woken up so early.

"Where are we going?" I asked him and crossed my arms over my chest.

He shrugged. "Ask the boss." Rolling my eyes, I got my coffee and drained it as I made my way upstairs. J was just shrugging on his coat as I got up there. As soon as he saw me he threw my clown mask at me. I frowned.

"What's going on, J?"

He was grumbling something under his breath, and then finally said, "I got a lead from one of my boys over in the, uh, _Penguin's _group that the Titan was only just de_livered._ If it's _true, _and he isn't as big of an idiot as _these _bozos, we can track it down fairly _easily._" He grabbed his gun from the corner and looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Well? Let's go." I blinked and then grabbed my gun from next to his and my shoes. When we got in the van, I was able to lace them up and then throw on my hat and mask. J had me sitting next to him the whole time, a possessive arm around me. I had gotten used to the throb that J's grip left on my body. Mr. Abramovich was sitting across from us, staring straight forward, above my head. He'd decorated his face with greasepaint, too, and now looked like the most frightening clown I'd ever met.

He was starting to grow on me, though. He met my eyes as we drove, and I smiled, though I knew he wouldn't be able to tell through my mask. He must have known somehow that I wasn't just glaring at him though, because, while keeping his sights on me, he crossed his eyes and twirled his giant hammer in his hand and I giggled. J's iron grip on me tightened then and I held back a sound of pain. He was a jealous man. "Something _funny, _dear?" He hissed into my ear.

I shook my head and then leaned down to rest it on his shoulder. He relaxed slightly, but he gave Mr. Abramovich a dirty look. When we arrived at our destination, I wasn't at all surprised that this was where Penguin was shacking up for the time being. The Gotham Royal Hotel was, after all, only where the richest of Gotham's elite stayed. We were able to park in the parking garage. We filed out quickly, and were marching towards the elevator when we saw the first civilian getting out of their car. She was quick to scream, but the Joker was quicker, and as he stared straight ahead he lifted his gun and shot out a stream of bullets. Spots of red blossomed across her neck, her forehead, her stomach. I didn't look for long. I didn't really care.

"He's in the _penthouse. _East Tower." We made it up to the fifteenth floor of the West tower before we had to cross through the Overview Bar. J threw his arm around my hip. "Get ready for some _action, _sweets." I grinned at him

"I can't wait, Mr. J." The doors opened and we stepped out in sync.

I smiled as J started to fire wildly around the room, screaming, "Ho, ho, ho! _Hark now hear, _the _clown men _sing! It's a song of bullets raining, blood spilling, and lots of _gasoline_!" Two of the boys (Jaxon and Barry, I think) were carrying large red gas tanks and started sloshing it around the bar. Multiple guests were screaming, and most of them had backed up against the opposite wall. He giggled as he grabbed a glass of wine from the closest table. It spilled halfway and he walked over to me with a flourish, bowing. "A drink, _darling?_" He asked, batting his eyelashes.

"Oh, sweetie, you're such a charmer," I said coyly, using my heavy city accent. I took the wine glass from him, lifting my mask slightly and tipped it back, then threw the glass with all my might. It shattered against the wall, glass raining down on the guests.

"Now!" He said, licking his lips as he waved his gun around, making multiple people flinch. "You aren't our _goal. _I just need to get through here without anyone disturbing me, so, uh... " He lifted his gun and a smattering of bullets crashed through one side of the Overview, shattering the glass. The cold air immediately rushed in. "You have _two _options. _Jump,_" He said and then paused for dramatic effect, and then lifted a Zippo lighter from his pocket, flipping it over and lighting it. "Or _burn._"

"I don't think so, Joker," A rough voice said from our right. None of us had noticed the Batman grappling up to the hole in the window. Joker giggled in delight.

"Oh, Bats, I've been so _lonely _without you this past month," He said.

I flinched at that, but ignored it as Batman started to talk. "Shut it, clown. You're going to let these people go."

J frowned at him. "Do I _have _to?" He whined, but then grinned even wider. He lifted his gun at the crowd and before the Bat could jump, J let loose a stream of bullets. Multiple people were hit, I could automatically see. I watched the confrontation as I backed up towards Mr. Abramovich. We stood side by side as Batman jumped forward to attack the Joker. J was faster, shooting him straight in the stomach. The Batman's armor protected him of course, but the blunt impact of getting hit knocked him off balance and he was careened backward, rolling on the floor. "This is fun, as _always_, but we're running out of time," J said sweetly. He motioned to the gang and we all started to run across the room, towards the other elevator. Batman was just starting to stand by the time we'd all filed in. As the doors started to close, Joker began to sing happily, "It's the _most _wonder_ful _time… Of the _year!_"

He threw his lighter right before the doors closed, and the last thing we saw was a bright orange explosion, followed by cold steel.

**Yay! More excitement! More lemons! More ABRAMOVICH. I love him so much, if you couldn't already tell. Please please please review, you guys are the best, and your comments always make my day, even if they are cursing me out, because hey, you at least cared enough to say how much you hate it. (Of course, this fortunately hasn't happened yet, but you never really know, now do you?) No, but in all seriousness, my baby snake (Heath Slither) is refusing to eat and he's worrying me to death, and I'm already in a terrible mood, so I could definitely use some cheering up. Eat, Heath, dammit! On the bright side, I'm buying my Harley costume for Comic Con today, and am almost done with my bat! Toodaloo!**


	18. Chapter 18

**chapter 18**

J spun around and while hollering with joy, he grabbed me, lifted my mask and planted a firm kiss on my lips. He grinned again and leaned against the door. "_That _should keep the Bat _busy _for a little while, don't you _think?_"

"And if not," Abramovich said, his voice tinged with humor, "I still have my hammer." I smiled as I looked up at him. Yeah, I liked this guy. Mr. Hammer. The elevator started to ding as we got closer to the top floor of the hotel.

"Uh, Mr. J?" I asked. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "How are we going to get into the penthouse without a security pass?"

He grinned wickedly. "We do it the old _fashioned way, _sweet girl." He snapped his fingers at Erik and he produced a long silver crow bar. I should've guessed. We reached the penthouse quickly and then readied ourselves for the open door. I lifted my gun quickly. Erik jammed the crowbar between the doors and with Harlan's help, we got them open surprisingly easily. What we saw afterwards, was not expected.

The Penguin had stacked all the furniture together into a large mountain, making a makeshift throne for himself on the top. His men were barricaded on either side, I didn't understand why until I saw what was in the middle of the room. A young man was shirtless, tied with leather belts to large beams in the middle of the room. He was limply hanging forward and from this position I could see large red cuts all over his back. Someone had been whipping him. "Well! If it ain't the Clown Prince 'imself. I was startin' to worry you weren't gonna come down and see me personally. Your little spy here was doing all your dirty work, I figured." That was the man that had been whipped then, the informant who'd told J about the Titan shipment.

"Pengy, you know me _better _than that," He sung as he stepped out of the elevator. We followed hesitantly. "I couldn't just let you, uh, _walk away _with _my Titan._"

Penguin growled. "We'll see how _your Titan _does against you, won't we?" He shouted from his throne and then produced his umbrella, pointing it straight at the informant. He pulled the trigger, but instead of a bullet a dart flew out and lodged itself in the man's back. _Not again, _I thought. J was giggling maniacally now. He enjoyed this! As the man started to ripple and change, his skin tearing and bleeding, he screamed at the top of his lungs. It quickly changed into an animalistic growling moan.

"Shoot him, boys," J said, raising his own gun. We all started to fire at the large Titan, but the bullets couldn't get deep enough in it's skin to cause any real damage. It reached it's full height and then slowly rose, it's arms swinging. He charged. I cursed and jumped behind the minibar, firing blindly over the counter. The only way I knew what to aim for was because of J's laugh. I avoided the areas it came from at all costs, hoping my target was getting shot at least some. I looked around the corner, backed up against the wall and saw that the Penguin was almost down from his mountain. His men were all moving a large tank - one filled with Titan. I growled and bared my teeth unconsciously. That was _J's. _

I wasn't in control of my next action. I was driven by the single protective need I felt for J, and bolted towards Cobblepot and his men. I froze a couple yards away, raising my gun. The demonic sounds of the Titan and J's laughter were behind me and I was confident that they would hold him off. "Give me the fucking Titan," I shouted. Cobblepot turned, holding his umbrella. He paused when he saw me and the recognition crossed his features.

"Dr. Quinzel," He said, knowingly. I cocked my head to the side, gritting my teeth. I wouldn't let him get to me. "Well, well, _well. _This is unexpected." He grinned largely.

"Put the canister down. Leave. I'm not afraid to shoot you," I said, dropping my accent. He chuckled.

"Sweetheart, you know I can't do that." I cocked my gun at his face.

"One more chance, Oswald." His men were raising their guns slowly, prepared to defend their boss. It was obvious he wasn't going to relent, and this was my last chance before his goons shot me. I let loose a few bullets into the henchmen to the right, making him groan and then fall silent as he toppled into the window. I shot the other man just before he was able to turn off his safety, shooting the window in the process. He clutched his stomach. I hadn't got a killing shot. Dammit! I went to shoot again, but I realized he was still walking backwards, knocked by the force of the blow. He screamed as he fell off the edge, and the screams continued till he finally hit the ground. Cobblepot looked at me with bared teeth.

"You crazy bitch!" He raised his umbrella, prepared to shoot me and I reacted immediately, charging into him. I toppled into him as hard as I could and we rolled on the ground. When we came to stop, I was on top of him, straddling him. I raised my gun above my head.

"_Only. J. Can call me. That,_" I growled in my most ferocious voice, driven mad by the anger I felt for this man. I slammed the butt of the gun down hard on his face. It smacked into his jaw. He was screaming, begging, but I couldn't hear him. My mind was set on the task at hand. I raised the gun again and again, smashing it into his cheek, his nose, his mouth. He was covered in blood, but I could hardly tell. Everything was red to me now.

I was knocked out of my trance when I heard a huge crash to my left. I looked up to see the large, disgusting Titan falling over. They'd finally got him, with minor casualties. I could see Harlan lying bleeding on the floor. I turned back to Cobblepot, panting. He was unconscious finally, knocked out by either the pain or the blows to the head. "_Harley!_" J shouted.

"Here!" I said, unable to make myself stand. I was gripping my gun with white knuckles. J appeared from around the Titan, stepping up on the monsters limbs and walking up his bloody, gruesome torso. He was splattered with blood and his eyes were furious, but when he saw me, sitting on top of a bloody unconscious Cobblepot he cracked up again, doubling over.

As he clutched his side, he shouted, "_That's _a girl!" He skipped over merrily, lifting the cannister. You never wouldn't guessed just from looking at him, but he really was very strong. He pressed his lips to the tank, laughing harder. "Now. We got what we came for. Let's go before the, uh, _gracious Batman _shows up to spoil our _Christmas cheer!_" He giggled. Mr. Abramovich made his way over at his slow pace and grabbed the tank of Titan from J's arms, throwing it over his shoulder. With a harsh breath, I stood up, glaring down at Cobblepot's form underneath me. J wandered over, standing in front of me, on the other side of his body. He threw one last harsh kick into the Penguin's head and laughed harshly again. "Let's go, _Harley girl._" He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me along with him towards the elevator. I could already hear the cop cars in the distance. We were fucked unless we could get to the parking garage before they got here. J was two steps ahead, like always. He lifted the flip phone to his ear after dialing a number and sung happily, "Bring the car around!" I wondered who he was talking to. I didn't know anybody else came on this job with us. We walked past Harlan's body and I wondered if he was still alive. The further around his body we walked I saw a large pool of blood flowing from under his head. He was gone.

We got into the elevator and as J cackled, he shot a few more rounds into the Titan corpse, until he'd emptied his clip. He threw the gun out into the trashed room. Reaching behind him, under his coat, he grabbed a concealed handgun from his waistband. His fingers gripped my hip violently and I relaxed into his side, comforted by the harsh feeling of his hands on me.

A black van was waiting for us when we got downstairs. There were cops already blocking the exits, and I was suddenly frightened. What were we going to do? I gripped J's coat tighter and he growled in my ear quietly, "Nervous, baby doll?"

"I don't want them to take you away," I said, clarifying that no, I wasn't scared of being arrested, I was scared of being away from him. He smiled a little. The van blocked the gunfire from us, though they didn't shoot as much as I expected. We were safe, ducking down under the tinted windows, and the man in the front stepped on it. "How are we getting out of here?" I demanded. I didn't see Erik or one of the other no-name employees. Had they gone back to get the other van?

"It's called _fighting fire _with _fire._" I looked up and saw we were heading straight for the barricade of cop cars. I cursed, just as we smashed into the two beside us, making them roll backwards from the impact. The car reversed suddenly and then slammed forward again. Bullets smashed into the car, busting windows. Glass scattered across us and I covered my head with my arms. J howled in joy as we drove, leaving the cops behind with two smashed vehicles and a streak of black tire tracks in our wake.


	19. Chapter 19

**chapter 19**

**Bruce Wayne grimaced as his butler, Alfred**, pressed an ice pack against his ribcage. "I don't know how I let him get away," He said, cursing himself inside his mind. He had been right there, not five feet away, and had let the Joker shoot him down. Of course, he couldn't entirely blame himself. He had been shocked. There she was, Harleen Quinzel, putting on a show for the hostages as the other henchmen poured gasoline across the room. He had known all along that she had joined up with the Joker. He had just _known. _Seeing it in person was just… Too real. How had it happened? She'd known him for just over a month and she was already madly dedicated to him, obviously infatuated with him. Did she not see that he was just using her? He had her pegged as a plaything from the moment he laid eyes on her innocent big blue eyes and blonde hair.

The Batman hissed again. "I'm sorry, Master Bruce, but I have to clean your wounds," Alfred said, frowning. "It wasn't your fault what happened at the hotel," He said as an after thought.

"I could have stopped him. If I'd acted quicker."

"You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in this city. The Joker would still hurt and kill even if the Batman didn't exist. You minimize the casualties. No one expects you to save everyone."

"_I _do," Bruce said. The sting of the alcohol sliding into his various cuts was the only thing keeping him sane for the time being. Alfred sighed, but he knew it was pointless to argue. After Alfred had laid gauze over the injuries and bandaged them, Bruce stood up slowly. "She was there tonight. The psychiatrist."

"Dr. Quinzel?" Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded, rubbing his head. "They were going after Cobblepot. I found traces of the Titan formula, too. They're planning something big. Harleen couldn't be aware of it… I refuse to believe her sanity has degressed this much, this quickly."

"The Joker is capable of many things. I don't put it past him to drive someone to that point."

Bruce shook his head then, still having trouble accepting it. "It's not his style."

"Maybe it wasn't his intention. Maybe he was just looking for something to entertain himself with while locked up in Arkham. It could be just a happy side effect. Indeed, I don't doubt at all that the Joker would happily accept her into his clan. With an ego so large, if a woman were to dedicate their life to him in such a way, he'd be foolish not to accept it. A predator does not turn away it's prey, does it?" Bruce was gripping his desk as he listened to Alfred. He hated that it made so much sense. He looked up at the various screens of his computer, watching images of the Joker's face flashing, old news reports and new ones. Mysterious deaths, stolen cars, all things that he thought could lead back to the Joker.

Bruce wasn't sure what to believe. He just knew that nothing that came from the Joker's schemes was ever good. Harleen Quinzel should be saved from that fate. He only hoped it wasn't too late.

**CHRISTMAS EVE**

"_Deck_ the _halls _with _bells_ of _holly,_" I heard from downstairs. I grinned. J had been gone all day, and I was missing him terribly. I jumped up from the floor where I had his favorite deck of cards spread out in the form of Solitaire. He'd taught me when I first came around, and I'd become very good over time. I jogged to the edge of the loft and looked down, a smile breaking out on my face as I saw him wandering into the apartment, a Santa hat on his head. "Oh, _merry men!_" He sung loudly.

"Hi, Mr. J," I said from upstairs.

He looked up and flashed me a grin. "There's my _girl. _Ready for your _big _day?"

"Couldn't be more ready if I tried." Erik came in from the garage behind J, wiping his brow with his sleeve. Jaxon followed in behind him, proceeded by Mr. Abramovich and one of the new henchmen. The apartment was strung up with dozens of white, green and purple Christmas lights and J even had a stocking hung up above the TV. I never would've assumed he'd be the holiday type, but I could see now that things like this excited him. Especially because they were the absolute best time to host giant, extravagant schemes. We had less than two hours until it was officially Christmas day, and that's when it would all begin. I still had no idea what it was.

"Get ready boys," He said cheerfully. "We depart in an _hour and a half._"

He started to march his way upstairs and I stood up, waiting for him. I grabbed his coat lapels and he smiled widely at me, violently pressing his lips against mine. "Get _dressed... _Now."

I nodded and turned to go into the bedroom, him in casual pursuit. My jumpsuit was waiting for me in the bathroom. I got dressed quickly and then stopped to admire it in the mirror. It was perfect. The diamonds and the J carved into my skin were both visible from the short top and low waist of the pants, and I loved it. I looked up at my face and cocked my head to the side. I looked to plain, too Harleen. I glanced over at J's greasepaint, gnawing on my lip. I didn't want to steal the Joker's look, but if I looked a little more the part… After all, I wouldn't be wearing my clown mask tonight. I grabbed the tin of white greasepaint and started to gently apply it over my face, making it thinner than J's, just light enough to see flesh tone, but thick enough to tell I was wearing it. I rubbed in a little black around my eyes, mixing it in with the white for a gray tone, and then for the finishing touch, just enough red greasepaint to stain my lips. When I looked up at my reflection, I absolutely loved what I saw. I'd never looked better in my life.

All I needed now was something to do with my hair. I always had it back when I worked, and had been wearing it in a ponytail most days here… I wanted something new. Something fresh. Something… _Funny. _I quirked a smile as I started to pull my hair up into high ponytails. Now, my look was complete. No one could ever mistake me as anything but Harley Quinn, Joker's henchwoman. I loved it. The pigtails added a childlike factor that I hadn't realized I wanted. It was playful, and dangerous at the same time. The image of me shooting someone in the head while my pigtails flipped around made me laugh.

J must have heard, because the next thing I knew, he was standing in the doorway. "_Look. At. You,_" He cooed. I turned my head and met his eyes, a sly smile on my red lips.

"Like what you see, Mr. J?" I asked, coyly, sticking out my hip and resting my palm on it.

He growled as he entered the bathroom, towering over me, even when slouching. His eyes travelled up and down me, scrutinizing every inch, and approving

of it in the same instance. His gaze lingered on the pinkish purple of the scar on my hip - the J. A gloved hand reached out and followed the curve of it, stroking my skin teasingly. I smiled up at him from under my lashes. "Sweet girl," He purred. "Daddy could just _eat _you _up._"

"Go ahead, Daddy," I whispered, stepping closer. His eyes rolled back under his lids and he twitched, his fingers on my hip digging into the flesh harder.

His voice was a low snarl when he said, "Oh, _naughty _little Harley Quinn." He grabbed me roughly, shoving me against the nearest wall and grabbing me beastially. I gasped, grabbing his shoulders as he pressed his lips to mine. His hands reached under the backs of my thighs and he yanked me up, hiking me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his back, crossing my ankles and throwing my arms around his neck. He bit down on my lip violently and I moaned, arching my back, pressing myself further into him. He growled, shoving his clothed erection against me.

The reaction I had elicited made me swoon and as soon as he let go of my mouth to attack the still tender skin of my neck, I leaned toward his ear and whispered in the most childish, innocent voice I could muster, "I love you, _Daddy._" He growled loudly, shoving his hips into mine and I grinned, finishing it off by biting down on his ear as hard as I could. A ripple moved up his spine.

There was a loud knock on the door, jerking us both from our lustful trance, and J barked viciously towards the disruptor. "_What?_"

"Uh… Boss? It's eleven o'clock."

He grunted in irritation and reluctantly let me back down to the floor. He pushed his long hair back with a gloved hand, watching me with a very intense, angry stare and I felt a rush of warmth in my core knowing that I caused that look of what I knew was lust. He turned away with jerky movements as he made his way downstairs, shouting insulting things at his clowns and I watched with a satisfied grin on my lips.

**Only one more chapter and an epilogue... It's been a wild ride, hasn't it, guys? I'm curious as to what you guys think the big plan is... **


	20. Chapter 20

**chapter 20**

**11:26, DECEMBER 24th **

It was the perfect plan. I couldn't believe that I hadn't guessed it. Where was the perfect spot for him to host his big comeback? Where was the perfect spot to show the world his new creation? The very place he'd found her, of course. Arkham Asylum. I watched through the van's window and the thick falling snow outside as we approached the long road leading back to the establishment. J was humming Christmas carols to himself on the bench a few feet away. I grinned at him. "You know you could've just told me we were coming here."

He didn't open his eyes, but he smiled. "That would have _ruined _the _surprise._"

We parked in the garage. J explained that I needed to stick by his side tonight, for the sake of me knowing all the access codes. I wondered if they'd changed them since I left. When we got up to the door, I typed in the eight digit code and grinned when the light turned green. I opened the door quietly and wandered in, waiting for J before making any more progress. He smiled at me and then waved his knife at the boys. "You all know what to do?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yessir," Joey told him, nodding behind his mask. J nodded back and the clowns ran off, leaving me, J, Mr. Abramovich and Erik. I had my gun slung around my shoulder and a knife in my boot that J gave me on the way here. Erik was armed to the teeth with amo and I didn't even want to know the kinds of toys that J was packing. We made our way silently through the halls, following J. It was so strange being in here again, but not as a psychiatrist. I was in here as a convict, one the same level as most of these patients. I didn't know where we were going, but J seemed to be perfectly confident as he walked, knowing just which twists and turns to take.

"Home again, _home again,_" He chanted, twirling his knife with ease in his fingers. When we finally reached Lawrence's office, my eyes widened. I knew why J came here - the controls for the entire asylum were in the director's office. But I wondered if Dr. Lawrence was here… And if so, how he would react when he saw me. I was more than disappointed when J kicked open the door and it was empty, but he seemed very happy about it. He jumped into the large swivel chair and started to spin, crossing his arms and giggling maniacally. "This is gonna be _fun._" He grinned when he saw the intercom. Pressing a button, he cleared his throat and said, "My fellow oppressed friends, cellmates and scumbags! _Joker _speaking!" We could hear the noise of voices from outside, patients and employees. It was official. We were here. J giggled into the mic. "I am here to liberate you! As we speak, my thumb is _hovering _over the button to release you _all _from your cells." That being said, he reached over and wavered above a large red button on the panel of controls. I swallowed.

"J? Don't you think we're a little.. Unprepared for that?" We only had nine men after all.

He bared his teeth at me with a growl and I stepped back, frightened. "You don't think Daddy would come without _backup, _do you, my dear?" He asked. I shook my head and he smiled at me, hostility disappearing for the time being. He turned back to the microphone then. "Make me _proud _boys and girls," He growled happily before slamming his fist down on the override button. Alarms started blaring, making me grab my ears and cringe. He started to laugh evilly. "Oh, but didn't I _mention?_ You all are going to be my, uh, _scientific partners _tonight. _Boys!_" He shouted. He grabbed me and shoved a gas mask into my hands and then pressed one to his own face. My eyes widened at the plastic contraption in my hand and I anxiously put it over my mouth and nose, sucking in clean air. My eyes followed a green tinted gas that flowed through the vent system. J was laughing hard, his free hand grabbing his waist.

That's when I heard the first roar. _Titans. He's infecting the enter asylum. _A chorus of vicious screaming and growling started, the ground vibrating with large heavy steps. I looked over at Lawrence's desk. A glass of water sat on the other side, rippling with the footsteps and slams of the Titans outside. "J!" I shouted through my mask. He glanced at me with smiling eyes. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

He grinned at me. "I've got _lots _of connections, baby doll," He said, grabbing me by the the waist and pulling me into his chest. I couldn't feel any anxiety when he looked at me like that and I was being held tightly against his body. I smiled up at him, trusting his judgement. Whatever he had planned would be foolproof.

Mr. Abramovich spoke up. "One of the dead Titans is down in the hall. Attacker has moved on. We must go," He said, looking out a small crack between the double doors. J nodded and pulled me along with him and the four of us booked it out of the office. J led us to the staircase closest to Lawrence's office. The elevators were shut down with the asylum override, all security and machinery powered down. We ran up the steps, J taking two at a time and me struggling to keep up with his long stride. The alarms were loud in my ears, but the roars of the monsters in the asylum were louder. J looked at me from over his shoulder and I gasped when I saw he'd taken off the mask and thrown it to the floor.

"You can _lose _that now," He told me. My brow lowered and I hesitantly removed the plastic, sucking in long gulps of the now pure air. After minutes of sprinting and tired legs, we burst out into the cold December air - On the roof. J howled in happiness. "He should be here soon," He purred, releasing me and approaching the edge. He looked down at the huge drop with a smile on his face. Leaning his head back and throwing his arms out, he laughed happily. I was scared he would fall, but he easily jumped back and skipped towards me. "Oh, _Harley! _We have an asylum _full _of giant Titan _loons, _two truckloads of my men coming in, and I've got my harlequin at my _side. _What a perfect Christmas," He sang, his face lighting up with mirth and laughter. So beautiful. He looked down at his watch and smiled, showing me the watch face. It was 11:57. Three minutes until Christmas. He twirled me around, and I squealed in his arms. He put me down soon and then looked back up at the moon, thick snowflakes falling on his face and in his hair. He looked so gorgeous just then. My staring was interrupted when a large black shadow flew across his face. "Well," J purred. "If it isn't _Billy boy _on _poison._" I glanced up, turning, raising my gun. The Batman dropped down right behind me.

Before I could whip around, he said, "Harleen."

I froze. He hadn't even seen my face. I turned around to face him and put my hand on my hip, still gripping my gun in one hand. "Nice to meet you again," I said as sarcastically as I could manage. J was angrily approaching and I was happy that he was going to take the spotlight away from me.

"Why are you doing this, Harleen? You had so much potential," The Batman said in a husky voice. I rolled my eyes and then looked lovingly at J. He was right beside me now, fuming, but not at the Bat. At me.

My brow lowered in confusion, but I was too late to react. He snagged my wrists, forcing my grip on my gun to falter. "Just _what _do you _think _you're _doing?_" He demanded, his other hand grabbing one of my ponytails roughly. I stared at him with shocked eyes.

"J! Stop!" I shouted, yanking my arms from his grip. He was too strong and instead switched my wrists for my neck, squeezing down.

"This is _my _show, Harley fucking Quinn," He growled. I was wrenched from his grip and I groaned in pain as I hit the concrete of the roof. The Bat was perching above me, hiding my body from the Joker. I growled, but I couldn't tell which person my anger was directed at. The Batman or the Joker? I didn't know. The only thing I could focus on was my gun, laying two yards away.

"Joker!" Batman screamed. "What the hell do you think you're accomplishing? Turning an entire asylum into Titans? What's your goal?" He demanded, screaming above the chaos around us.

Joker laughed wildly, happy that the Bat's attention was finally focused on him. "You _know _me better than that, Bats. _I _don't need a goal! _Why _did I infect hundreds of patients? Because I _wanted _to!" He was waving his knife around happily as he spoke. I remembered him telling me about having no plan. Being a zigzag amidst dozens of circles. Batman stood up, making his way towards a fight with J and I inched towards my rifle, trying to remain unnoticed.

"You have to have some purpose," Batman growled angrily.

"_Purpose… _Is for _people _like _them. _Our only _purpose is…_" He trailed off, his eyes closing happily and then he smiled. "Each_other._" A lance of pain shot through me. The Bat. The Bat was who he really wanted. I frowned as pieces fell into place. The tension between them, the never ending fight, the complete opposite roles in life and J's _obsession… _Was it all a ruse? Did he even want me? I growled viciously. Of course he wanted me. He wanted me around, or else he would've killed me by now. The Bat just had to go. He was stealing him away, distracting him, bringing out his anger. I didn't like it. I grabbed my gun and shoved myself up to my feet, flicking off the safety again and aiming it straight for the Batman's cowl. I knew from experience that a shot to the stomach did nothing. He must have heard the click, because the next thing I knew, the Bat was staring at me, then dodging forward in a swirl of black that threw me off balance and he was suddenly there, knocking the gun from my hands again. A spray of bullets shot out towards J and I screamed. I heard his laughter in the background, though, and an intense feeling of relief flowed through me. I hadn't shot him. I started to laugh, but tears were streaming down my painted cheeks, and I didn't know if I was laughing or crying halfway through. The Bat was glaring down at me in confusion, not knowing what to make of the once professional clinical psychiatrist, sobbing and laughing beneath him after almost shooting him in the head.

"You!" I shouted and spit heavily onto the concrete. I tasted blood, and figured I'd hit my head on the fall to the concrete. "You just don't _get _it!"

"Don't get what?" He growled.

"You keep trying to _stop _him! He'll never quit, not if you're around! If you really want him stopped, either kill him or kill yourself," I growled, spitting again into his face.

"I don't kill," He yelled back angrily into my face.

"What about those cops, then, huh?" I demanded.

He snarled wordlessly, and before he could reply, a large hammer smacked into his side and knocked the air out of him. He groaned as he clutched his side, rolling onto the concrete. Mr. Abramovich stood above me and reached down a large hand. I stared at him for a minute before grabbing his large palm. He pulled me up to my feet and I took a large breath before grabbing for my gun once again. The Bat was down, temporarily at least. I looked around the roof and saw that J was watching the spectacle with a strange face. "J," I said, making my way towards him. As soon as I was in arms length of him, his hand flew out and backhanded me across the face. I stepped backwards twice, gripping my cheek in my palm and coughing more blood up. He was stalking towards me, grabbing my hair again roughly and yanking me up to look at him.

"I'll deal with _you _later," He hissed. There was a blunt pain in my side as his fist collided with it. White hot pain started to flare up and I choked back a sob. Warm blood was soaking my clothes, slowly growing cold in the freezing air. He _stabbed_ me. Nausea overwhelmed me as I stared into his eyes. The pain wasn't even the worst part — It was the look of pure splenetic wrath in his eyes. I fell to my knees when he released me, grabbing my throbbing wound and trying to support myself with one hand. I watched as J marched off towards the Bat, Abramovich by his side. I was woozy from the pain but I wasn't giving up that easily. I was the Joker's girlfriend. I was _Harley Quinn. _One wound wasn't enough to put me down.

With gritted teeth, I stood up and reached down to my boot, yanking out my knife. I was holding my side with one hand which was steadily becoming soaked in my blood. Limping towards him, I poised my knife in my hand. When I was right behind him, I lifted the blade to his throat, pulling him close and growling in his ear. "I should do it," I said. "I should slit your fucking throat."

He was still for a moment, and the roof was silent, everyone shocked by the turn of events. Then, the Batman screamed out, "Don't do it, Harleen!" I was about to scream back, when I heard the click of a gun behind my head.

"Harley, I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"Erik," I threatened. "Put the gun down." Joker started to laugh and I could feel the vibrations against my blade. Erik prodded the back of my head with the barrel of his gun. That was enough for me to loosen my grip and Joker jerked forward, slamming a foot down on the Bat's head hard. He was out for the count. He twirled around, a flash of purple and then had his own knife inside my cheek, stretching my mouth.

"Little girl," He growled. "You _really _shouldn't have done that." He shook his head sadly, closing his eyes. He was twisting the knife gently, just enough to cause stress and a little bit of pain on my lips, but nothing serious. I glared up at him defiantly. "When we get home…" He muttered. I couldn't stand the burst of warmth in my stomach that I knew he still wanted me home, even though half of me wanted to kill him right now. "Take her to the _car, _Erik."

"Sure thing, boss," Erik said, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me back. The knife slit the inside of my cheek and I grimaced. The pain was the only thing holding me together right now. It was keeping me aware, my feet on the ground. I prodded the open wound on my side and I curled over in pain as Erik yanked me along. As soon as we were in the stairwell, he loosened his grip, but it was still strong and I couldn't get away. "That was a really stupid thing you just did," Erik said in my ear.

"Yeah," I replied. "I know." He sighed deeply. I knew I would pay deeply for that when I got home, but couldn't bring myself to care too much. The roaring of the Titans greeted us again, and the realization that we'd have to get through that mess again hit me suddenly. "Fuck," I muttered.

"I was just thinking the same thing. This is gonna be rough." We opened the door quietly. The hallway was Titan free. Bolting to the right, we ran as quietly as we could to the closest security door. I typed in the code and then we headed off again. Remembering the schematics of the building, I lead us to the next closest staircase, bringing us down to the second floor - three doors down from my old office.

"You've gotta trust me," I told him, not giving up my place in the lead. "After all, I used to work here." He raised two eyebrows, and I realized that we'd never explained to the boys where exactly I'd come from. I grinned at him and then tiptoed down the hall. My office was exactly how I'd left it, only more eerie. When we got the door closed, I sighed in relief. "The first floor is absolutely packed with Titans, obviously, so theres no way we can get down to the van that way. We're gonna have to go out the window," I said, rubbing my hands together.

Erik grimaced. "Whatever you say, Quinn," He muttered, and I smiled again, heading towards the large window. I opened it as far as it would go and then kicked out the screen, looking down below us. It was about a twenty foot drop, and it would hurt. I threw one leg out the window and then turned, gripping the brick with my boots, lowering myself as far as I could while holding onto the sill. I gave Erik a mischievous look and a wink and then let go of the edge, falling the rest of the way down silently. I grunted as I hit the ground, rolling over to help distribute the pain. I scooted out of the way, my clothes getting soaked in the snow. By the time I'd finally stood up, I heard Erik curse as he hit the snowy ground. "Dammit Harley, you and your ideas," He muttered.

"They keep us alive, don't they?" I asked. "Come on, the garage is this way." Behind the asylum were a lot of trees. The grounds were very woodsy and rocky, and the pine trees made the entire affair of the night even more… Creepy. We ran most of the way to the garage, only pausing to catch our breath once. That was when the helicopters showed up. I cursed under my breath. If the choppers were here, the cop cars were sure to be here too. Blocking our exit. "How many rounds do you have?"

"I haven't had to shoot more than three times this whole night," He said with a raised eyebrow.

"Good," I said. "We're gonna need the ammunition." As we made our way towards the garage, the sounds of sirens got louder… And so did the sounds of growling Titans. They'd made their way outside. As we appeared around the garage, both of our jaws opened. The army of Titans were destroying the army of cops. They were shooting hundreds of bullets into the gory beasts, not seeming to realize that bullets did no damage, unless they got a shot through the eye, or something of the like. The skin was too thick, the organs shifted around into new positions. I looked at Erik, slightly panicked. He shrugged. It was all on me then. How was I supposed to get us out of here? I looked up at the asylum roof, seeing that the helicopters spotlights were shining down. J and the Bat were probably still up there. I scowled but then frowned. If he got caught… I couldn't let myself think about it.

"Freeze!" A voice shouted. Erik and I turned in sync to see a cop standing with a gun in his fingers, shaking at the sight of either me, or Erik's gun. Or both. I cocked my head to the side. I looked at Erik and smiled and then turned back to the cop, putting on my most scared face.

"Officer," I said, "Please, I… I didn't know what he was gonna do, he said he wouldn't hurt anybody… I just wanna go home," I begged, trying to summon tears. I hoped that the pigtails helped me look more childish and sweet. The cop frowned, his brow pushed down and his gun slowly lowered.

"Put down the weapon," He demanded, trying to sound threatening.

Erik slowly went to lower his gun, but in the same moment, I rushed forward, grabbing the gun, twisting his arm back and pointing it at his head. He was at least two inches shorter than me in these boots, and I grinned at my advantage. The gun was poised against his temple and I leaned down to whisper in his ear, "I'm gonna have to borrow this." I forced his finger down on the trigger three times, bullets blasting through his head and out the other side. I was splattered in his blood by the time I dropped his body and I checked the clip in the gun. Still had five bullets. I grimaced. Erik was staring at me with surprise.

"You've got a little…" He gestured to my entire face and I smiled. "And in your teeth." I started to laugh.

"Come on kid," I said. "Places to go." I cocked the gun and started to run again, towards the field. The cops were shooting left and right at the giant beasts, and in the havoc, Erik and I went by unnoticed. "Ready to do something really crazy?" I asked him.

"Haven't we already?" He asked, worried. I flashed a wicked smile at him and then ducked into the tree line, towards the cops nearest. My target was sitting there, just waiting. The cop car had both it's doors open, the key in the ignition. How perfect.

"That one there," I whispered to Erik when he got closer. He sighed and then nodded. We both raised our guns in sync and took out the cops near the car we were going to take. The shots blended in with the rest of the gunfire and no one noticed the few bodies dropping. I ran towards the driver's seat and slammed the door closed, throwing it in drive. I was speeding off before Erik had his door closed.

I screamed in happiness. "Fuck yes!"

"Harley, you're fucking crazy," He muttered.

"Thanks," I said, laughing happily. I was still anxious about J, but for now I needed to focus on getting out of here alive and in one piece. We were going at least eighty down the drive and off of Arkham Island, towards the Narrows.

"Where to? The studio?"

I sighed. "I wanna stick close for now, in case J needs us."

"Then where can we go?" Erik asked. I cursed loudly when another cop car swerved in front of us, blocking our exit. My head slammed forward onto the dash and I groaned, stars flashing across my vision. The sirens were loud in my ears and with my new head injury, I felt sick. I looked to my right and saw that Erik was in much the same condition as me - only unconscious. His forehead had a large gash in it and was bleeding profusely down his eye and the left side of his face. Woozy, I reached down, trying to scrounge for his gun but I was too late. The door was wrenched open and a flashlight shone brightly into my face.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, you're under arrest," A familiar voice said. I blinked and looked up into the eyes of Detective Ramirez. _Perfect. _She yanked me from the car and I stumbled, grunting as the pressure of a footstep radiated through my stomach to my wound. Joker. I missed him already. I looked behind me to the chaos that was Arkham Asylum and started to laugh, a wild maniacal laugh that made Detective Ramirez flinch. As she shoved me into the back of the cop car, my laughing faded to giggling, and before I knew it, I was passed out in the backseat.


	21. Epilogue

**epilogue**

Deep in the underbelly of Blackgate Correctional Facility, Harley Quinn was strapped down on a metal table, staring at the ceiling above her. The fluorescents were giving her an even bigger headache than she already had, but she didn't bother to look away. Why try to stop such a frivolous hurt? She already was aching everywhere else, although she didn't really mind those pains. They were J's pain, and they were the closest she could get to him right now. She was still angry at him, of course, and the thought of his gorgeous face brought a scowl to her blood-covered lips.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Harley rolled her head to see who was coming in. An older man wandered in, wearing a labcoat and holding a clipboard. Harley couldn't bring herself to roll her eyes, and just looked back up at the ceiling.

"Miss Quinzel?" His voice asked as he rolled a chair over to her. _It's Doctor, _She thought, which made her giggle.

Halfway through her fit, she looked him straight in the eye and flashed him a wicked, bloody smile. "Call me Harley. Everyone does." He flinched back very slightly, but Harley was trained for this kind of thing, and she saw the emotions he worked to hide. Oh yes. He was _scared _of her. She smirked and then rested her head back on the table.

He cleared his throat after a moment, and said, while scratching notes on his clipboard. "We're going to do a quick psychological evaluation, Miss Harley."

"Whatever you say," She said, popping her cheeks loudly, making him jump. Harley giggled again. She liked this power. Was this what J felt everyday? Just making a little noise, or flashing some teeth made people cower in fear? She could get used to this, she thought. Maybe that's why Crane did what he did… Fear was a powerful tool.

"Now, Harley…" He began, about to read off some generic question, when she heard something in the background.

The beautiful, wild sound, of J's laughter. And then… He spoke. "Good _joke, _Harley girl! I know you're here!" He was here. A slow smile spread across her lips and she interrupted the doctor beside her.

Not looking at him, she started to speak in a dreamy voice, while she stared at the ceiling. "Tell me, Doc… Have you ever been in _love_?"

**The End**


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